


side a

by leisvrely



Series: on-air [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Bad Decisions, Clubbing, Drug Abuse, F/M, Heavy Drinking, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, LSD, M/M, Music, Night shift - Freeform, Overdosing, Past Drug Use, Radio Stations, Smoking, Tokyo - Freeform, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, lots of bad backstories, mechanic yamaguchi, mixtapes, radio host, smoking pot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22019347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leisvrely/pseuds/leisvrely
Summary: for the first time in his life, kei is realising that things could be better than satisfactory
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yachi Hitoka, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Series: on-air [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584886
Comments: 32
Kudos: 73





	1. overnight show

“ _ Sun is rising over Tokyo this hour and the night show comes to an end. Thanks for having me night owls, I’ll see you this evening. Up next, a proper classic from the ’90s to get you ready for your day. _ ” Kei averted his eyes from the screen for a moment to cue the track. As it started to play, he turned off his recording equipment and got up from the chair to stretch. 

_ Ahhhh, shit.  _

He was so tired. 

Shaking away the drowsiness, he continued to clean up. He re-locked the snack drawer that isn’t supposed to exist (could fuck up the equipment) and grabbed his empty travel coffee mug (normal ones could also fuck up the equipment). It didn’t take long to gather his few belongings and make it out of there. 

The song was halfway over. 

Nishinoya, the other young radio DJ the studio hired, walked in to take over the morning shift. 

“Morning, four-eyes.” He said with a smile, holding out his hand for a fist bump.

Kei neither responded nor returned the fist bump. This was a tradition. It was a mean, indifferent tradition, but for the past year and a half of working there, it had been the same thing every morning. As he continued to walk past, he heard the other man sigh. 

“I’ll get you one of these days.” 

The car ride back to the apartment he shared with his brother was always the calmest part of his day. Being that it was only before 5am, there was hardly any traffic on the roads. He could watch the summer run rise and take off over the city, just as he said every morning before his show ended. 

A year and a half ago, Kei applied for the job of a nighttime radio host, not even thinking he had a chance. He was just two years out of university and had no experience working at a station. The only thing he knew was that he loved music and knew how to use a mixer. By some miracle of god, he got the job. It had been the same thing every day since. In the summer, his hours were short. In the winter, it was slaving over such cold, long, nights. He’d always figured that he’d be the one who got to play the music, but every single mix came from his manager. And yet, Kei really did love his job. It was the only thing in his life that was above satisfactory to him. Something more than just “contempt with”. 

Halfway into his ride to the city, something happened. This something had been happening for a while, but this time it was worse. Kei’s poor little 2009 scion would shake. Whether it was fast or slow, the car would shake. There had been a faint burning smell for a while now, only continuously getting worse. As the engine started to sputter, he cursed any sort of higher being and pulled over. 

“Fuck. You’re kidding. Just- god! Fuck!” Muttering to himself, he got out of the car and went to open the hood. Thank god there was no one to see this. 

He had no one to kid. Kei didn’t know anything about cars. All he knew was that this car was a piece of shit and he loved it. Now, he had no clue what to do to help it. Pulling out his phone, he did the only thing he did know how to do. 

An hour later, Kei was leaned against the wall of the mechanic’s shop walls. He had never been here before and didn’t know what the customs were. Was he to watch them fix it? How long would that even take? This felt so awkward. It was half after 6am and there was hardly anyone else here. A man he didn’t know was under the front of his car. It looked just like how people do it in movies, occasionally sliding out on a wheeled platform on their backs. 

“What happened before your car broke down?” he called, slightly muffled from underneath. 

Kei noted how young he sounded. “I was just driving. My car shakes sometimes, but this morning it got especially bad. I think something was burning in the engine. I could smell it, at least.” 

He rolled out from under the car and got up, noticeably wincing and putting a hand to his back. “It looks like transmission failure. I can try to get it fixed as soon as I can, but it’ll take a few days. Four or five at the max, I’d suppose.” 

_ Few days? Shit. _ “Oh. Alright.” 

Things felt proper awkward for a moment. The man looked too young to be working so early here. Maybe a university student at the max. His hair was a little longer and pulled back at the top into a micro ponytail, dyed a dark green with overgrown brown roots. A smudge of dark… something was present on his upper cheek. Kei didn’t mean to be rude but it was so distracting. 

“Is there something on my face?” 

“Oh, uh, you just, you just got a little, uh” he mimed where it was on his own face, simultaneously feeling bad for having accidentally pointed it out. 

The man put two fingers to the spot, smudging it more as he felt it and pulled them away to see what it was. “Oh. It’s just grease. All part of the job, I guess.” 

Two guys in the same uniform as the man walked past, “Suits you, sewer rat.” One of them said, laughing with the other one. 

A mixture of shock and embarrassment flashed across the man’s face. “Sorry, they’re just trying to be funny.” 

_ It’s so middle school _ , Kei thinks to himself, desperately trying not to roll his eyes at how cringey what just happened was. 

“Anyway, I’m Yamaguchi. I’ll make sure to call when it’s all fixed up.” Yamaguchi held out his hand to shake. 

“Tsukishima, nice to meet you.” He almost didn’t shake his hand but went for it anyway. Poor guy probably couldn’t stand to be embarrassed twice. 

“So. See you in a few days?” 

“Yup.” 

Something about the interaction he had with Yamaguchi irked him. The way those guys said such a stupid insult irked him. The way the man didn’t even say anything back to them and acted like he was in on the joke. He obviously wasn’t. 

_ It’s pathetic.  _

Kei ended up walking another half mile back to his apartment. He could have gotten an uber or taken the train, but he felt like walking. It was nice outside. Summer afternoons were always so hot, but the mornings were just a pleasant and peaceful warm. By the time he got there, Akiteru was still getting ready for work. 

_ Liarliarliar. How can I even be sure?  _

His brother wore a suit, shoving things inside a briefcase in a bit of a hurry. His tie remained untied around his neck. When seeing Kei take off his shoes and walk into the main living area, he stopped what he was doing to stare at him with a hand on his hip. 

“You’re back late,” Akiteru said with a hint of curiosity in his tone. 

“You look like you are late. The car broke down.” 

“It  _ what _ !” His brother cried racing over to throw on his shoes and open the door. “And you couldn’t call! Jesus!” With a slam of the door, he was gone. 

Kei shrugged. The man needed to get his own ride anyway. It was his own car. Kei bought it himself. 

With the apartment now to himself and overly quiet, he pulls up the station app on his phone, hearing Nishinoya’s voice over the radio saying, “ _ Goooood morning Tokyooo! Today’s skies are blue and we’ve got a roaring high of twenty-seven degrees! Better hope those offices have some air conditioning! _ ” 

The morning show continued playing softly as Kei collapsed onto the couch, consciousness dancing away into that warm summer morning. 


	2. unsatisfactory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nobody knows what they want anymore.

The train was a nightmare and Kei hated everything about it. It had been two days and he so dearly missed his car. He hated the smell, he hated the crowds, he hated every single aspect of the trains. As he would throw his headphones over his ears and close his eyes to try and forget he was standing on a crowded train, the fear of him missing his stop would overcome him and he'd open his eyes and throw off his headphones. 

_Fuck this._

At the station, the girl who manned the evening show would continuously glance up at Kei outside of the studio glass. He was leaned up against the wall, earlier than usual. After dialing the number given to him at the mechanics, he held it up to his ear and held his breath. He could tell from the corner of his eye that she was staring again. He averted his eyes towards her, making her blush and immediately look back at the equipment. She was cute. 

“ _Shimada Technician Shop, how can we be of service?_ ” 

Kei couldn’t tell if it was… shit… what was his name? “Hi, I was, um,” he was distracted. What was that guy’s name? “Uh, I was wondering what the progress on my car was? It’s a 2009 scion xB. Greyish blue sort of colour.” 

“ _Sir, can we get the specifics of the condition and the name of the client?_ ” 

“Oh, right. Tsukishima Kei. Some sort of transmission failure.” 

“ _And do you recall who was working on it?_ ” 

Of course. Of course, that was a question. “Um, a younger man with green hair.” 

“ _Oh, Tadashi? I’ll check on that for you right now, sir._ ” 

While on hold, he looked back over at the studio. The girl was speaking into the mic now, probably giving a back-sell or something. She really was cute. Her short, blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail that could’ve only been an inch or two long. She’d only been working here for a few months, taking turns with their usual evening show host. It was more likely that she would take over full time, however. Their middle-aged male host didn’t get as many listeners as she did. She was more “hip” with the fans. The station had taken to hiring as many younger people as they could, trying their best to get higher in the industry and get more advertisement placements. She could feel him staring back and looked up, giving a shy smile and wave. He waved back. 

“ _Mr. Tsukishima?”_ The phone call returned from holding. 

“Still here,” he replied, inwardly cringing at the phrase. 

“ _Tadashi says it’ll take another two days, but did add that if he ‘busts his ass he can do it in one’_.” 

The poor guy. He obviously was working long hours and said he’d work even harder? It was just stupid. “Oh, alright. Thank him for me. Goodnight.” With that, he hung up. 

Regaining his balance from leaning against the wall and standing straight, he watched her gather her things and exit the studio doors. 

“I just put on one last song before commercials. Hi, I’m Yachi. I don’t think we’ve met before,” she says walking up and sticking out her hand. She’s a good foot and a half shorter than him, but she’s cute looking up at him. 

“Tsukishima,” he says, giving her petit hand a firm shake. “You thinking about working here long?” 

“Oh, that would be kind of nice. I work here and intern at my mom’s company, but I think some full-time work away from her would be nice, you know?” She shifts the tote bag from her elbow to shoulder, looking down at her feet. 

“Totally. I get it.” Kei can read her mind. She wants something but doesn’t know how to ask for it. “Could I give you my number?” 

Her eyes light up when he says that, returning to eye contact. Yachi nods and pulls out her phone with a shaking hand, unlocking it and opening her contacts. He types in his name and phone number, a voice in the back of his head asking why he’s doing this. 

_She’s cute._

_So? We don’t go around giving our number to cute strangers. Especially not ones we work with!_

_Okay, we technically don’t work with her. Besides, she’s too shy to ask herself._

_It doesn’t matter! Why go after someone you don’t like?_

Kei can’t answer that one. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. 

He hands back the phone, giving an attempt of a smile. “Text me sometime. We could hang out whenever you have time.” 

Nodding a few times, Yachi puts the phone in her bag, a blush spreading across her cheeks. Eye contact is no longer possible, it seems. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you later!” she calls out as she leaves. He waves goodbye, suddenly remembering the radio station. 

Getting into the studio gives him just enough time to switch the cue from music to commercials, giving him a good extra five minutes. Plugging his headphones into the computer, Kei rolled around in the chair for a few spins. Part of him hoped the mix Suga had come up with for tonight wasn’t full of sad songs. He wasn’t sure he could take that sort of depressing mood. 

Suga was his manager and gave him a mix of songs for the entire night. He generally had a good selection and a different tone for each night. Kei remembers asking him if the inspiration came from his own life a few months ago, but Suga got all heated and said absolutely not. Even so, there was usually a pattern in moods that could be followed. Sometimes, every night would be lighthearted happy songs. Sometimes it was love songs. Sometimes those love songs lasted for weeks and a mix of sad songs came up. At one point, the sad mixes went on for a solid three months until Kei noticed listeners tweeting at the radio station with comments about how “moody” the overnight show was. He had to beg Suga to change the tone, and now they had a pretty solid mix of tones for every night. He liked this station. It called itself “Alt Rock” but honestly, they played most anything. 

Kei pulled up the log, scanning down the list of music. Seven-hour playlist (longer than he needed if you count the speaking bits and ads), mostly underground stuff tonight, general lo-fi and soft mood. He could deal with this for the night. 

Tracing his nails along the wooden table as he waited for commercials to end, he took notice of all of the drawings and stickers plastered on. There were carved in names, permanent marker doodles, lots of pen writings, and a good amount of skater-esque stickers. Inspired, he took a silver marker from the cup of pens and pencils and started to draw a simple version of his car. Every so often, he’d glance up at the times of commercials, finally getting to his start. An ad for some toothpaste he’d heard so many times he’d memorised it began to fade out and he spun the chair around once before playing the opening jingle/sound effect. 

“Goodnight Tokyo! Welcome to the 113.1 overnight show! Tonight’s mix will be filled with everyone’s favourite, easy-listening chill beats. Stick around for the midnight on-air with yours truly, Tsukishima. Alright, night owls, here’s Day Wave.” 

Clicking onto the play button and clicking off-air, Kei could finally lose the cheery voice. The only time he would _EVER_ speak like that is on the stereo. Suga’s words of advice when he first joined (and was obviously nervous for the speaking bits) were simply to act as though you were speaking to a good friend, but not your best friend. You needed to be overly friendly and into it. Kei had friends and he definitely never spoke like that, but that’s how he imagined he would talk to his friends if he wasn’t a piece of shit. 

Friends. His friends. Kei has had the same friends since university, but he was kind of a dick to them. He’d always been a dick to them. There was no reason to keep him around, but they always did. It was like they saw some good in him, but even Kei wasn’t stupid enough to kid himself. There wasn’t any good there. 

His phone pinged with a notification.

**UNKNOWN:** im listening to ur show on the way home !! i love your radio voice

 **UNKNOWN:** i mean i like your real voice too. i sorta like all of you

 **UNKNOWN:** oh it's yachi btw :) not a total creepo

With a smile, he just shut off his phone after a quick “lmao thanks” sent back. It was lame and he knew it. What was the use in giving the girl his number when he wasn’t that interested? Why be such a dry texter? It didn’t matter now. Kei just had to focus on the show for now. 

The next afternoon, Kei was out in the city. He didn’t have much else to do during his day asides from making mixes that he can’t play at the station, so why not go out? He was determined to find a new cassette player. Just something to fill the void (or at least his room) with. Kei didn’t know friendship or romance, but he knew material objects. There were dozens of antique radio devices, record players, CD players, cassettes and walkmans, and anything musically related. He wanted to produce music but didn’t have the drive. Until then, he could at least buy the stuff revolving around it. 

A few blocks away from the apartment building stood a fantastic music store. Kei loved that building with his heart and soul. The lighting was dim, the radio played shitty rock music, and no one in there talked to each other. It sold anything from obscure instruments to hand-me-down vinyls of songs no one knew. To Kei, it was paradise on earth. He went so often that the guy who worked behind the counter was basically a friend. One of the only people he was genuinely nice to was Daichi. 

In all honesty, you could tell the guy was a wash-up of some kind. He always seemed mildly depressed and out of it, yet somehow you could tell there was a fun guy who used to live in that body. Despite being mid-to-late twenties, the guy walked with a cane. Kei didn’t like to assume beyond that. 

Arriving at the store was like breathing in fresh air, only really the air was slightly old and musty. Upon entering, he expected to wave to Daichi, but instead found him in a conversation with some guy with green hair pulled back on the top into a baby ponytail. Wait a second. Kei did a double-take. _Was that… the guy?_ He remembered the man over the phone yesterday saying Tadashi, yet somehow that sounded wrong. 

Feeling the eyes bearing into the back of his head, the man turned around, locking eyes with Kei. There was recognition in his expression. Feeling bizarrely shy, however, Kei ducked away into an aisle with LPs. He flipped through them, just hoping the man wouldn’t talk to him. _He didn’t want him to say anything. He didn’t want him to say anything. Oh, fuck he wanted him to say hello._

There came a tap on his shoulder. Kei turned to look too quickly. 

“Hey, you’re the transmission failure guy, yeah? Tsukishima?” The man asked, instantly making Kei feel bad for not knowing his name. 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s me.” He said, analyzing his face. There was no smudge this time. Nothing covering up all of the freckles sprayed across his face. His eyes were dark but friendly. 

Daichi leaned over the counter. “Yamaguchi,” ( _THAT’S what it was_ ) “did you know Tsukishima is a radio host at 113.1? He’s the night shift or whatever.” 

A smile crawled onto Yamaguchi’s lips. “Really? I play that all the time when I’m working late at the shop. It’s my go-to station. One of the only ones that play actually good music instead of boring talk shows.” 

Kei half-cocked his head. “You work late nights too? Jesus, what are your work hours? And why are you here?” 

“Today’s my off day, but I busted my ass last night trying to finish off your car. I dumped it on one of the guys to be his problem instead of mine, sorry.” He gave a shrug. The movement brought Kei’s eyes down to the opaque, white bag in his hands that read the name of a liquor store. (Old enough to drink, has obscene work hours. _Okay, not a student._ ) Yamaguchi noticed his attention turn to his bag and came back to the original subject. “But yeah, I don’t have much else to do so I just work whenever I can.” 

“Do you bust your ass on every client’s car?” 

“Only if they’re cute.” 

_Huh?_

“Why’d those guys call you a sewer rat?” 

_Holy fuck, why did I say that?_

Yamaguchi’s face looked like he was thinking the same thing. Obviously embarrassed from the memory, he put a hand on the back of his name and gave a weak look. “Oh, um, I lived in New York City for a few years. I think they’re just jealous that I made it out of Japan for a while.” 

“Oh. You don’t like it, yeah?” 

“I mean like, no one likes getting called a rat.” 

“Then tell them that.” 

Daichi rolled his eyes from the counter. “Take it outside if you feel like arguing. I prefer peace in the store.” 

“But we’re not-” Kei was immediately caught off guard by Yamaguchi pulling onto the sleeve of his shirt and taking him out. 

_Only if they’re cute. Only if they’re cute. Why would he say that?_

He must’ve had mind-reading powers. “Sorry for saying that earlier, it was inappropriate.”

“What? No, it’s uh, it’s fine.” 

Although he raised his eyebrow like he wanted to delve further into whether it was really fine or not, he didn’t respond. Even though the silence must’ve only lasted for a few seconds, it felt like too long. _God his roots are so grown out. I wonder if he doesn’t care. Maybe it’s just a style. It doesn’t look that bad, I guess._ Why was Kei’s brain short-circuiting right now? This had never happened before. 

“So. You’re a radio guy.” 

“Yup.” 

Yamaguchi leaned his back against the brick wall, setting the bag of liquor down. Judging by the noise, it was heavy. _Is he having a party?_ “I like the music they play a lot. Are you guys freeform?” 

“Nah. I have a guy who picks out the music for me. I email him like twice a month begging to do it, though. Like what’s the worst that could happen? There aren’t that many people who listen to the radio at 3AM. Very unlikely that if I played a “bad song” that I’d get complaints.” He took the spot next to the other man, looking down at their shoes. Yamaguchi’s skate shoes were covered in writing and doodles. It was messy and chaotic. 

“Oh. That sucks.” He paused. “Do you write your own script at least?” 

“Yeah, I write the script.” 

“Funny. You don’t look like how you sound then.” 

“You just don’t know me that well.” 

“Do you want me to?” 

_Fuck. Fuck. SHIT. FUCK._ His brain just broke down as his car had. Sparks were flying everywhere, something just combusted, gears were stuck in place. _This was fucked. Everything was fucked._

“I mean like, yeah, sure. You seem cool.” He said after a moment, repositioning his glasses to seem like he was distracted by that instead of whatever malfunction was going on in my head. 

Checking his watch, Yamaguchi picked the bag back up and got off the wall. “Okay, I actually have to head out, but if you come to the shop to pick up your car, I’ll be there. Sound cool?” 

“Oh, yeah. Uh, sounds cool.” 

As Yamaguchi started to leave, he turned around and held out his hand for a fist bump. 

Kei could hear the betrayal in his co-worker's existence as he went in and fist-bumped him back. With the memory of his new friend(?)’s smile in his head, Kei watched him leave with the uncomfortable realisation that for the first time in his life, he wanted something more than satisfactory. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was on call with a friend writing this and trying to explain what i was doing was so difficult  
> "and why do you have 16 tabs open about radio djs"  
> "uhhhhhhhhhhhhh"  
> anyway thanks 4 reading, ur a real one  
> (make sure to drink water and get enough sleep)  
> cya next time^^


	3. getting the band back together

Air filled his lungs with great difficulty as Kei felt himself crumple into a pile of exhaustion onto his bed sheets. The room reeked of sex and sweat, a heavy stench that clouded his mind. Full consciousness slowly rolled into his brain as he peeled off the wet condom and slung it towards the garbage can. With a sick slap, it hit the edge and fell to the floor.  _ Fuck _ , he would have to get that later. Yachi collapsed onto the bed beside him with a breathy laugh. 

“That was fun.”   
Nodding slowly, Kei wasn’t quite sure what else he was to say aside from a muttered, “Yeah.” 

She reached over and held onto his hand, resting them both on her naked torso. Whilst Yachi soothingly rubbed her thumb across the back of his hand, Kei could only think about how he came thinking about dyed green hair and freckles. 

_ Goddamnit.  _

The morning after he saw Yamaguchi at the music store, the morning after such a tedious shift at the station, the hour after Akiteru left for work, Kei ended up getting a call from Yachi. What was supposed to be a short date ended up back at his apartment not forty minutes later. Things progressed how you’d expect they would after that. 

It wasn’t as if Kei was some monster sex-machine. He never went around specifically looking for a one-time suck-and-fuck. Usually, when he took someone home or was taken to a secondary location, it was just because he could tell the other girl was interested. 

For some reason, Kei never was. 

He didn’t get a chance to go out and meet girls a lot anyway because he worked so damn much. He worked so damn much specifically during the prime hours of meeting people at bars. The people that were easier to call his “friends” (were they even?) loved going out. Every weekend it seemed was prime time for them. Despite knowing and being reminded that Kei worked night shifts nearly every time, Hinata always still gave him a call. 

“ _Hey, Kags and I are heading to a club to meet up with Tanaka tonight, do you wanna join?”_ _  
_ _“Tsuk-I-Shi-Ma! There’s a new bar close to me that just opened last weekend! Wanna come?”_ _  
_ _“Hey, it’s my birthday! I know it’s Sunday, but you should come party with us!”_ _  
_ Without fail, there was always some sort of memo. Without fail, Kei always declined and hung up. Without fail, he had never felt bad about not joining. Today was an exception. Tomorrow was Friday. Without a doubt, there would be some sort of call. He worked hard enough. He deserved a day off. 

Yachi left two hours ago, freaking out when she realised she was going to be late for her job at the company her mom owned. They said their goodbyes, leaving him alone in a bedroom filled with music equipment and the smell of his regret. It was right there, in that stupid room, that Kei decided he would never talk to her again. 

Before stepping into the shower, he deleted her contact with some remorse and guilt. He tried thinking about her when they had sex, he really did. It just wouldn’t work. His mind just wandered until it settled on something else. 

_ Fuck.  _

Kei didn’t want to remember that half of it. He didn’t have an excuse. He couldn’t even come up with a fake excuse for his conscious to deem real. It was eating at him, the thoughts. Freezing cold water ran over his body, catching him off guard and luckily pausing the sex-istential crisis and all. If he’d been wearing his glasses outside, Kei would have noticed the note from his brother saying that the hot water line had been cut in construction. The icy drizzle of water, however, seemed to be a good enough sign from above that he had to change something in his life to get the water running warm again (even if that wasn’t really how this worked). 

A nervous pit grew at the bottom of his stomach as he walked to the mechanic’s shop. Last night as he played his music and did his show, he could only count down the hours until the car was scheduled for pick-up. Every time he spoke into the mic, Kei imagined Yamaguchi working and hearing his voice over the radio. Would he stop and smile, knowing that he had met that previously disembodied voice? Would he laugh because Kei sounds so different from how he is in real life? How he’s so sarcastically charismatic on the show, but such an asshole prude in his day-to-day life? Jesus, this was pathetic. A two-time run in had made him so exuberant over the thought of someone else thinking about him. Kei’s entire lifestyle was not giving a shit about what _anybody_ thought about him, now everything felt like it had changed out of nowhere. This was mutiny!   
The door to the shop gave a quiet jingle noise from the bell above. There were a few people in the lobby waiting, either looking on their phones or looking bored out of their minds. Kei sighed, hoping he’d retained his stony look and hadn’t physically turned into a wuss to match his tumultuous mental state. 

“Hey,” he said to the man at the desk, looking just as bored as everyone waiting, “I’m scheduled for a pick up and payment? Tsukishima Kei, transmission failure.”   
He pulled up their records or something onto the computer, clicking with a stultified expression. “Yeah, I got that.”   
They continued through payment, an awkward amount of time being taken up by Kei’s card not working three times before he realised he was using the wrong pin. Everything was off today. Was he sweating again? 

“You can go pick it up. Tadashi was working on it,” the man said nodding to the door. Either Tadashi was his first name, or this was some completely other guy and Kei got all worked up for nothing. 

Taking a short breath in through his mouth, Kei entered the shop. That familiar scent of garage and gasoline filled his nose as he looked around at the people working. With a moment of panic, he realised that he didn’t see Yamaguchi anywhere. A tap on his shoulder, similar to the one in the music shop came. Once again, he turned around way too quickly.  _ Jesus, I’m so obvious.  _

Yamaguchi stood there with the keys hanging from one of his long fingers, a grin on his face. “She’s out back with the other finished ones. Ready to return her into your arms?” 

It was stupid but it made him smile softly. “Yeah, sounds good.” 

In all her 2009 glory sat his car in a semi-full lot. Yamaguchi explained what all he fixed (including a free oil change, nice!) and everything as Kei nodded along to what he was saying despite not really taking any of it in. 

Yamaguchi was really pretty for a guy. 

For a moment, he didn’t even notice that he’d stopped talking. There wasn’t anything for him to say either, so it ended up that they were just looking at each other. Saying  _ nothing.  _

“So uh,” he started, breaking his eyes away from Kei’s, “when do you sleep? Since you do the night show?” 

It was so random, but anything to break the silence was fine by him. “Oh, I usually sleep for a few hours in the morning and I just end up taking a lot of quick naps.” 

“How many hours, do you think?” 

“I dunno, maybe like four and a half.”   
“Four and a half!” He seemed overly shocked for a man that seemed to never stop working. 

Kei decided to point this out. “Well. what about you then! You seem to work every hour of the day! When do  _ you  _ sleep?” 

“I go to bed at like two in the morning! At least that gives me _some_ sleep!”   
“Do you live in the cars or something?”

He gave a half-heartedly annoyed look, pointing at a building across the street. “No, stupid, I just live over there. My commute is approximately thirty-five seconds.”   
Folding his arms, he leaned against the car. “You’ve timed it?” 

“There’s really not that much to do on this side of the city. I do what I gotta do to stay entertained.”   
“Is that why you go out of your way to fix up cars and talk to virtual strangers?” 

Yamaguchi put a hand to his chest as though he were being accused. “Strangers? Am I a stranger to you? That hurts, Tsukki, it really does.”   
_Nickname. Fuck, that was a whole nickname!_

“Well, what are you to me then, huh?” He wasn’t totally thinking before he said it. This was so infuriating. He was supposed to be stoic. Mysterious. Kind of an asshole. This was not very him. 

“I’m a pending friend.” It was said with confidence. Almost like he’d practiced that. 

“Pending?”   
“Pending.” 

Another staring contest. Another quick moment that felt like a lifetime. One of the first times that Kei felt like he was being stared down to instead of the other way around. 

“You should probably head out, though. I’ve got my job, you’ve got your naps.” The keys were gently dropped into the hand that Yachi held hours earlier. 

“Okay, smartass. Don’t act like I don’t have a job,” he responded, wishing that this wouldn’t end as soon as it was going to. 

“I never said that,” Yamaguchi smiled. “I’ll be listening for ya tonight, sound good?”   
“Sure.”

“Sure.”   
He opened the car door, half getting in before pausing. “Hey-” 

“Sewers! C’mon, man! Get back to work!” A guy from the doorway leading to the shop yelled at him. Even though Kei still thought that was the weakest insult in the world, he still couldn’t help but get annoyed. 

“Yeah, I’m coming!” Yamaguchi yelled back, shrugging when he started to turn around. “Sorry, it is what it is. I’ll see you around, I guess.”   
_I guess._

That evening was long and mentally arduous. Kei came in a few minutes later than usual, not remembering if Yachi would be working in the evening or not. Either way, he wasted the time in the small bathroom. He was so obviously tired. There were rings under his eyes. They’d been there soon after he’d begun college, but he never really paid attention to how they stuck out so much. The blond hair atop his head he usually kept a bit short was starting to get too long. It almost hung over his eyes. 

Kei didn’t really understand why the women in clubs regarded him as attractive anymore. There wasn’t even a full person there sometimes. 

Looking down at his phone, he saw that whoever  _ was  _ in the studio must have left by now, so he made pace and got there just before cuing on commercials.  _ God,  _ he did  _ not  _ want to do this tonight. When that stupid toothpaste advert came on, he dialed up his manager’s number. 

“ _ Tsukishima! What’s up? Is there a problem at the station? _ ” There was the usual amount of background music, but this time it sounded like familiar shitty rock music. That wasn’t super fitting to what he was usually playing. 

“Can I please freeform sometime?” He’d asked this a million times. Make that a million and one. 

There was a sigh on the other end. “ _It’s my job to pick the music, it’s your job to play the music. Just wait a few years ad chances are you’ll get promoted when I leave._ ”   
“Leave? Where are you leaving to?” This was news to him. 

“ _C’mon. You can’t expect me to want to do this until retirement. I don’t expect you to either. We all have dreams, Tsukishima, don’t you? I’m just doing my best to live up to that._ ”   
He wasn’t sure what to even say. Of course, he had dreams. But that’s all they were. They were ideals of a life that wasn’t his. 

“ _Did you need anything else? Or can I go?_ ”   
“Oh, yeah,” he’d almost forgotten, “is it too late to call in and take tomorrow off?”   
Silence. It was kind of a lot to only call in now. They didn’t have many stand-ins. “ _Yeah, yeah, I’ll look into someone taking over. You have enough sick days to take like a month off anyway. But I’m begging you not to do that, because we’re so goddamn low on staffing_.” 

“Oh my god, thank you so much,” He smiled into the phone checking the timing on commercials. Just a few minutes left. 

“ _Okay, now please don’t ask me anything else. I’m busy, babes._ _Have fun tomorrow night; don’t do crack or something._ ”   
He hung up, leaving Kei with the confusion of his overly confident tone and being called “babes”. It just felt so bizarre. The commercials ended and he went live, doing the usual introduction. In the back of his mind, he wondered if Yamaguchi had turned on the radio yet. 

“Tonight we’re featuring a sneak peek of Black Jackals’ new album,  _ Airhead,  _ with one of their new songs, which won’t be released until Friday.” Speaking into the mic felt like an eternity as he introduced the band before transitioning into the song. 

It was weird hearing music on the radio from a band made up of people he knew. Hell, it was weird  _ being the one to play it _ . Black Jackals wasn’t bad. They did pretty cool punk rock music that ranged over a million different moods and tones. Their previous album, in retrospect, was an absolute mess due to how none of the songs seemed to fit together. One song could be sad yelling, the next was in-love yelling, and that lead to jealous yelling. Yet somehow it fit and people liked it. The band of three wasn’t  _ famous _ , but they were getting a lot more attention. Kei wouldn’t be surprised if they could secure a tour by the end of the year. 

It kind of hurt seeing them succeed. The trio were all older than him by a few years, but they had felt like genuine friends not that long ago. He met them in his sophomore year of college through a dealer. Hinata wanted to smoke up, but had no money. Not only that, he was scared of one of the two dealers they knew. Now, they were buddy buddy, but Tanaka did give off a terrifying vibe when he wanted to. Because of this lack of courage (and monetary gifts), Kei somehow ended up being the one to deal with all of this. One thing led to another in a direction he would never have expected, and suddenly he was on LSD in a house party sitting on a couch with a band no one had heard of. 

Well, mostly because they hadn’t made any music yet. 

Kei had been introduced to the three: Bokuto, Kuroo, and Akaashi in the beginning stages of drugs entering his system. The pattern of the couch was moving at a rather rapid state, the stripes racing over and over as though they were running from the other lines running from the other lines running from other lines running from- 

_“Hey, you alright, dude? Lookin’ pretty spacey,” Some guy said, averting his attention from the moving couch fabric to his eyes. Jesus, did his head always move that fast?_ _  
_ _“Nah, dude, he’s trippin’. You can straight up see it in his eyes. He’s got that wild animal look.” Another guy (WOW his hair looked tall. How do you get hair to do that?) added. He sat on the floor, running a hand through his dyed-silver hair that had no right being that tall._

 _The guy from before put his hand on Kei’s shoulder. “Acid?”_ _  
_ _“Uhh, yes.”_ _  
_ _“You ever been on acid before?”_ _  
_ _“No. I’m- I’ve never done drugs… in this lifetime.”_ _  
_ _Someone else, a third guy on an armchair, looked up. “Yo, that’s kind of metal. Would be a good song lyric.”_ _  
_ _Kei turned his head in confusion. Not at him, but at the bricks in the background. They were all shifting in place. Out and in and out and in and out and in. Huh._

_ “What’s your name?” The guy next to him asked. His hair was also tall, but only on one side. Kind of like a rooster. Kei laughed to himself before answering.  _

_ “Tsukishima. Like, Tsukishima, you know?” Why did he SOUND like that? Why was he not ALWAYS like this? Being on drugs was GREAT!  _

_“You know anything about music, Tsukishima?”_ _  
_ _“I’m gonna… gonna degree in- wait fuck, I’m gonna major in commercial music.”_

Everything after that part of the night was a wiped out memory. But what Kei did know was that suddenly he had three numbers in his phone that wanted to hang out soon. Suddenly he had three friends better than the normal group he was in. Suddenly he was doing drugs on the weekend and drinking on weeknights with a band as he helped them write lyrics and come up with chord progressions. They counted him as part of the band. They thought he’d go with them when they all dropped out of school to focus solely on music. They let him overdose on acid that December before his junior year. 

_ Stop it. Stop thinking like that. It’s not their fault.  _

_ Yes, it is.  _

_ Just shut up.  _

Sighing, he did a rotation in the spinny chair, just listening to the music yelling about being “a little cunt bitch”. It was like a little secret, knowing exactly who wrote what lyrics. Being able to tell who came up with the rhythm pattern for each song. It was a little secret he had over a life he no longer cared about. A life he hadn’t taken part in since he was, like, twenty or something. 

And Hinata wondered why he always declined to go out. 

Everyone knew it had happened, but after he recovered he said things were fine and he was fine. He was serious, so they took it seriously and kept doing what they were doing. If anything, Kei just needed people to forget. He needed Akiteru to forget so he’d stop obviously worrying when he didn’t do that sort of thing anymore. 

Tomorrow maybe, but then never again. 

Friday afternoon, Kei sat around waiting for the phone to ring. Doubts were running through his head. He wanted to  _ go out,  _ go out for the first time in years, this time trying to have fun. Maybe talk to the people who are supposed to be his friends. He’d been sitting around pretending to be busy since lunch, even though the rest of them had normal day-shift jobs and would obviously be working. He took another freezing cold shower. He made a sort-of dinner. He watched three violently uninteresting movies. 

“They’re not calling,” he murmured to himself, glancing at the time on his phone that read 8:04PM. “They don’t care.”   
It was a depressing truth to be discovered. His friends hated him. They were rightfully sick of him being a dick and him ghosting them and he had been dropped. Kei couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe it! That left him with what, one friend? And it was his brother! This was- 

The phone rang. Kei picked up way too quickly. 

“Hello?”   
“ _Tsukkiiii! I already know you’re gonna say no, but we’re going out to RedBast tonight. It’s a club that I told you about a while back. Would you pretty pretty pretty please consider coming?”_ Hinata’s voice seemed so desperate this time round. 

“...”   
“ _Tsukishima?”_ _  
_ “...Yeah, alright. I’ll go.”   
There was more or less a shriek on the other end, as if Kei had proposed to him or something. He’d never heard the man so happy-sounding in his entire time of knowing him. 

“ _Ohh, I love you! I love you, you big grumpy man! Uwahhh! Tsukishima you make my heart go all guahhhh when you actually want to hang out. Meet me at my apartment in twenty? You aren’t allowed to say no now.”_ _  
_ “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there in twenty, idiot. See you then.” He ended the call, quickly finding his brother in the kitchen. “Oi, I’m going out. Don’t stay up waiting for me.”   
Akiteru turned around in confusion. “You? Wait, who with.”   
“I’m not sixteen. It doesn’t matter.”   
“I don’t care. It does.”   
“It’s just the usual guys.”   
“That you haven’t talked to in months.”   
“And? I’m going out.”   
“Don’t do anything stupid!”   
Kei left before delving further into that argument. He felt like a kid on the night before a school trip. This could help fill the void in his life. The void that he realised was making him so desperately unhappy. 

_ It’ll be fun. Just try to have fun. You can do this. It’ll be fine.  _

He slammed the front door on his way out of the apartment, partially blinded by the inner fear that he’d begun to spiral again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is longer than the other one woahh  
> happy new year fellas. let's hear it for 2020. gonna upload and then get drunk let's go  
> also im sorry like everyone has a fucked up background let's not dwell on it too much  
> make sure to drink water, get enough sleep, and be careful when using drugs a/o alcohol. be safe  
> i'll cya next time^^


	4. lover's speed; II thinking

Kageyama sat across from him at a table, eyes half-lidded. Even with the harsh red lighting that filled the building, it was so completely obvious how stoned he was. Kei hadn’t spoken to him in literal months, and here he was listening to him ramble about how depressing it was that there weren’t any new continents to discover. He had arrived with Hinata, Kageyama, and Tanaka about thirty minutes earlier. The music was loud. Every part of the building was crowded. The lights were so, so red. 

“Aha!” Hinata cried out, sitting down onto the seat next to Kei. “I stood in line for eight years!” He passed around two shots of something to the three of them before scrunching up his face at Kageyama. “Oh, stupid Yamayama is too gone already. Stupid zombie Kageyama.” Taking the two back from him and splitting them between both fairly sober (Kei wasn’t quite sure about the status on Hinata) men. “You down?”   
_Might as well be._

“Why not?” They cheer-sed their first shots together. Kei hardly let the drink sit in his mouth before forcing it down faster than he could think about it.  _ Tequila.  _ God, he  _ hated  _ tequila. 

They finished the other two quickly after that, the sudden intake of alcohol making him feel slightly nauseous. His body sure hadn’t forgotten sophomore year. Hinata shook his head, almost like a shiver. 

“Bwahh! That was so awful. I hated every second of that.” Despite saying that, however, he turned with a grin, pulling the sleeve of Kei’s shirt down so they’d be more eye level. It was hard to hear otherwise. “I’m so happy you actually came! It’s not the same getting fucked up without you!” 

He could taste the tequila on his breath. Glancing down, Kei could see how his fingernails were painted black. Hinata had started dressing more… creatively for clubbing more than he remembered. This only meant he’d be perfect to talk to. 

“Hey, you babysit Kageyama and I’ll grab us another round, sound good?” He asked, standing up and first of all checking his wallet hadn’t been stolen off of him yet. Hinata nodded, reaching over and giving a pat to Kageyama’s (who now had his head resting on the table) head. 

Walking around to the bar made him nervous. All of the people dancing mixed with the thumping beat of the music that he could feel in his throat was honestly more than he expected from this place. At the bar, he awkwardly leaned against it, waiting to gain the bartender’s attention. As he waited, he noticed the back of someone who looked awfully familiar. Longer dyed green hair, tied up into the smallest ponytail. Morbid curiosity took over from there on out. Instead of ordering the drinks, he watched the person walk out with another person onto the dance floor. Black shorts showed off muscular thighs that Kei couldn’t help but stare at. There was no way, right? He decided to list the facts he knew in his head. 

  * _Yamaguchi worked nights too._


  * He’s never seen Yamaguchi in shorts, so he can’t tell if those are his legs or not. 


  * That man’s boots were HEELED.


  * Would he be a clubber? He saw him with the bag of alcohol, but every adult household has that. 


  * Yamaguchi implied him being cute earlier this week. 


  * The part of his brain in charge of reason was starting to get fogged over. 


  * If that was Yamaguchi, he needed to say hello. Right. Now. 



Instead of doing just that, however, Kei turned around and went back to the bar. 

Hinata wasn’t joking when he said he was in line for forever. Not only did it take forever to order, it took forever to get the actual shots. It was also pretty expensive, seeing as he accidentally got six again instead of four. 

_ Guess I’m all in then.  _

With great difficulty, he brought all the shots back to the table. Kageyama was looking more conscious now, he and Hinata seemingly arguing over some pills on the table. 

“It’s not that big of a deal.”   
“As much as I love getting all zonked, I’m not gonna let your entire body system shut down. I don’t trust _you_ to stop mixing after that.”   
“Whatever,” Kageyama rolled his eyes and turned away as Kei struggled to set all of them down. 

“Thanks, Tsukki. Has anyone ever told you that you look so much more mature without your glasses?” Hinata asked, pointing up at his face. 

He’d went with contacts for tonight, not wanting to risk broken or lost glasses. “Oh. Thanks, I guess.”   
He was not awaited upon, Hinata quickly took a shot before Kei even sat down. The dude was a monster. 

A question still lingered on his mind. Doing his best to ignore the memories that came with the taste, Kei took the shot to catch up and immediately another, sputtering a bit. 

“Jeeeesus, Tsukki. What’s the rush?”   
_He could do this, he could do this. Just one more awful little shot and things will be easier._

Closing his eyes, he threw his head back and swallowed as quickly as possible, slamming the glass back down onto the table. His lips were starting to feel numb. “Hinata, are you into guys?”   
The question sort of came as a gunshot in a quiet neighbourhood. Even ‘zonked’ Kageyama matched the pace that Hinata turned to look at him. The poor guy choked on his shot, taking a minute before he could even answer. 

“Where the hell did that come from? Did you think I’ve been flirting with you or something?” Defensive mode was beginning to come on. 

Hinata was a popular member and reporter for an online news website that was more accessible to young adults. It wasn’t rare that he had been hounded for his sexuality by both fans and people just hoping for drama or a scandal. Even though he would shut down rumours and photographs each time the statement circulated on the internet, people just kept asking. This had been a horrible pet peeve to him for years now. 

“It’s just an honest question, stupid. Be real with me.”   
Kageyama interjected. “If he doesn’t want to tell you don’t make him. It’s none of your business.”   
“What and it’s yours? Let him speak for himself.”   
“At least I actually talk to him. I don’t just disappear and expect things to be fine when I get all sick of being lonely.”   
“Shut up!” Hinata yelled at them both, eyes narrowing. “Kageyama, don’t just fucking attack him, it’s fine. I actually want things to be fine, okay? And Tsukki- Tsukishima. Just why?”   
His face heated up when he thought about why. Muscular thighs and heeled boots were why. “I- I…” How do people even do this? “I was just thinking. Because uh… I can’t stop thinking about someone and they’re… they’re…”   
“What, a dude?”   
It was so dreadfully embarrassing to nod. Thank goodness for the red lighting that could hide how flushed his face was. He could start to feel the liquor in his joints. Everything was so loose and heavy at the same time. Just to feel it, he rolled his wrists in circles over and over, committing the feeling to memory. It was the last time. This was his last time. 

What ended up being the big dramatic response that Kei imagined, was anticlimactic, “Word,” from Hinata as he held up a sideways peace sign. Without much hesitation, he took the last shot and picked up the colourful tablet, (not a pill) and popped it in his mouth. 

_ Ah. Ecstasy. Not surprised there.  _

“C’mon, Tsukki, dance with me, yeah?” Getting up with a little bit of a stumble, Hinata grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the table, only bringing attention to his own jello-legs. “Do ya’ want one?” Pulling from his jeans pocket clumsily, Hinata held up another colourful tablet. Either yellow or pink, in the shape of a crescent moon.

_ This is a really poor idea.  _

Hesitantly, he reached out and took it from his palm. This was  _ such  _ a poor decision. For the brief moment before he dry swallowed it, Kei focused in and could see that it was yellow after all. He told Akiteru he wouldn’t be stupid. Oh,  _ Christ _ , this was as stupid as he could get. 

Hinata started to move to the beat of the music, closing his eyes and just dancing. He was one of the only people that could visibly be drunk, but still look kind of cool. A flash of green moved somewhere behind Hinata. Straining his neck, Kei tried to follow the movement, seeing it end somewhere towards the middle of the floor. 

“Why’d you say yes?” 

“Hm?” Kei turned back to face a semi-serious Hinata that bobbed to the beat that felt like it was so loud it was muffled. 

“Why’d you say yes to coming out?” 

_ I dunno.  _ “I’ve just been purely contempt living lately. I got tired of only wanting satisfactory. I thought going out and having fun again would shake things up.” 

This made his friend laugh a little, wiping away a tear that wasn’t there. “Tsukishima. Dude. If you want to be happy, then you’re not gonna be hanging out with us.”

_ Huh?  _ “Why?” 

“I’m not mixing because I’m happy. We all just have fun and ruin our bodies to forget how shit life is for a weekend.” 

“And I can’t do that?” 

He shrugged. “I mean if you want to then go for it.” Hinata reached out and grabbed Kei’s hands, forcing him to dance with him. His vision was getting blurry, and not because his eyes were usually shit at being eyes. Every movement made his head feel like it was on a spivil 

“What did you mean when you said ‘word’?” he asked, feeling a rush of adrenaline from the dancing and the booze. 

“I dunno- I just mean like, uh, I feel that. I like whoever I want to and that’s just that. I don’t really care as long as they’re pretty and make me feel something.” 

“So pretty guys are your type?”

“Pretty  _ people  _ are my type. So don’t worry about me liking  _ you _ .” Hinata stuck out his tongue.

“Well then it’s a good thing I’m not into  _ morons,  _ otherwise I’d have to swoon all over you.” 

“Uwahh! You’re so mean, Tsukki. Hurting my pride like that.” 

They continued to dance for what was either ten minutes or an eternity. Hinata was very good at dancing and it seemed so unfair. Dancing was making his head spin and his limbs were feeling too uncoordinated. 

“I need to sit,” he said, although unsure Hinata even heard him, and stumbled through the crowd back to the table, collapsing onto the seat across from Kageyama once again.

“You’re drunk,” he said rather bluntly.

“You’re high, piss off.” 

“I’m not attacking you, chill.” 

Sitting in silence, Kei turned and watched the dance floor. He’d forgotten his motivation of talking to green hair and heeled boots.

“I don’t get why he dresses like that,” Kageyama commented offhandedly. 

_ Who?  _

His eyes shifted to Kei before also going back to the floor. It was like he read his mind before he actually got to ask “Hinata.” 

“Oh.” He watched Kageyama watch Hinata. “What do you mean?”

“He dresses so provocative now. I don’t know who he’s trying to impress like that.” 

Kageyama wasn’t totally wrong. Tonight he was wearing a cropped halter top with fringed shorts. It had admittedly been a little surprising at first to see his friend in a non semi-professional attire after a long time. He didn’t used to dress like that when they went out, but it wasn’t  _ that  _ bad. 

“I mean, it’s not like he’s dressed like a hooker. Get off his case.” And now Kei was  _ defending  _ Hinata. This was all very bizarre. 

With a grumpy expression, he narrowed his eyes at Kei. “Obviously not. Don’t call him that. It’s just a little surprising sometimes.” 

“So what, do you know?” 

“Know what.” It wasn’t a question. It was so obvious that Kageyama knew. “And you’re into dudes now? Who would’ve seen that one coming.” Also not a question. Either Kageyama had seriously worked on his deadpanning or he just sucked at speaking with any expression. 

“I don’t know about dudes as a whole. Just one guy.” 

“Okay. Dude, singular. And how do you even know if you like him, or whatever. What if you’re just confused?” 

Kei had considered this, but knew he wasn’t confused. Dude singular was in all actuality,  _ dudes _ . Plural. He’d felt like this before, one time in college. He felt no reason to share with Kageyama, however. “I’ve felt this way before.” 

_ FUCK! WHAT PART OF “NO REASON TO SHARE” DON’T YOU- _

_ “Well, obviously you’ve had crushes before. It doesn’t seem very you but mostly everyone has them, I guess.”  _

_ It went over his head. Thank god he’s stupid.  _

“Yeah.”   
“Mhm.”   
Kageyama and Kei never got along that well. Kei didn’t really get along with _anyone_ , but it was always a mess with this one dude. They weren’t violent or horrifically mean, but they were like two angry cats. Two little angry cats that argued through the most passive-aggressive comments at each other. Sometimes they were just so alike that they couldn’t even notice. Everything they hated about each other was one of their own personality traits. 

“Can I ask you something?” He said suddenly, making a loopy-headed turn towards him. 

“What.”  _ If this is about the guy thing I swear to go- _

“How’d you get off scot-free? When you, like,” he moved his hand across his throat, as if to signal that he fucking  _ died _ back in university. 

“I dunno. My brother said it was a meal with bad mushrooms and I didn’t realise. Whatever he said matched up with the traces of LCD so it was legal then. I’m not really sure how well it went over, though.” It wasn’t like Kei was uncomfortable talking about the overdose. Well, okay, he  _ was,  _ but if he showed that off, someone would think he was weak or something. 

Sweat was dripping down his back. Everything started to feel so fucking hot for no reason. Was it the people? Was it that red neon lighting?  _ Red made things hotter, right?  _ Despite the hot and the sweat, things started feeling good. Too good. His limbs were loose. His head felt heavy on his neck, moving slowly from side to side in fluid movements. Opening and closing his mouth only brought attention to the numbness of his lips.  _ Oh.  _ It was kicking in.

“Why?” Kei asked, hyperly aware of everything he did. Was it that obvious?   
“Just wondering. You just came back to school the next year like things were fine. You went to rehab, right?”   
_Jesus, this was not as fun to talk about as he’d assumed. Which was not at all._ “Yeah. That whole spring.”   
“Did it work?”   
He paused from saying yes. It wasn’t as though Kei was on LSD again, but he had consciously made the choice to take a drug that was almost worse tonight. Did that count as working? 

Instead of answering properly, he dodged the question. “Why? You want to go?” It was defensive and a bite at him. That would for sure rile him up. 

And for some reason, Kageyama didn’t yell or get upset like he thought he would. He made a face, furrowing his brows and looking down at the table. “I just don’t want to get fucked up like that.”   
That was fair. “Then go home.”   
His eyebrows got angrier. “Glad to hear that from the guy mixing. You go home. Before you end up fucking seizing at the table.”   
_Fuck you._ Kei meant to say in his head. By the looks of Kageyama’s expression, he said it outloud. The man stood up. “Piss off. If Hinata asks, I went out for a smoke.”   
“Okay.” Kageyama left very quickly, hands balling into angry fists before he got lost in the crowd of people. 

This left Kei alone at the table, sweaty and feeling the ecstasy kick in harder as either the seconds or hours passed by. What was in between, the minutes? He didn’t feel lonely. Kei didn’t feel lonely. He hadn’t seen Tanaka since he’d split when they got there. Tanaka didn’t deal anymore after almost getting caught. He threw his other dealer friend under the bus and hadn’t really been the same since. Asahi had been in prison for four years now. Kei was good. Kei felt good. Kei felt so so so good.  _ Holy fuck _ , he’d not felt this good in years. Adrenaline flowed through his veins, replacing the alcohol that made him feel like a puppet without strings. 

Down at the bar, he saw green hair. 

Everything that happened next felt like harsh cuts of stills. He stood up. Suddenly he was at the bar. He tapped on his shoulder. He watched him turn around. He recognised Kei. 

“Tsukishima?” Yamaguchi asked, a beer in his hand. 

_ Oh, he doesn’t want to see me. Oh, god this was a mistake. Oh god oh fuck oh god-  _

A grin spread across the man’s face. “I wouldn’t take you for much of a clubber. No radio tonight?”   
“My friends are stationing. Fuck, wait- no, I’m sorry. My friends asked me to come. I took the night off. How are you?” There was no possible way to sound more unnatural. This was neither how Kei normally spoke nor how a normal person would sound. 

The smile only spread. “I’m good, actually. Do you wanna sit? Lookin’ kinda shaky there, buddy.” 

With his free hand, Yamaguchi led him to a table not far from where he originally sat. It was nearly impossible to keep his head upright, but he couldn’t just rest his head on the table. That would be rude. Even with this in mind, he rested his head on his arms anyway. Sometimes it was way too easy to give in. Yamaguchi sipped from his beer, turning his head to match Kei’s glance. 

“I almost didn’t recognise you without the glasses. I can better see your eyes now.”   
His face was so, so hot. Could Yamaguchi see how much he was sweating? Jesus, that was embarrassing. “I, uhhh, contacts.”   
“Mhm, yeah I bet.” Even though he was gaslighting his inability to speak normally, it was still so nice just to hear him talk. “Now, can you tell me what you’re on?”   
_Shit. Of course he knew. What if this guy was a cop? There was no way he knew_. “I dunno what, uh, you’re talking a...bout.”   
“Oh c’mon. Just ‘cuz I work in a trade doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Is it molly?”   
_Caught._ He nodded. “We did shots and… and Hinata said, ‘Do you want this?’ and I said yes so I could have fun like that.”   
“I’ll take it you aren’t a casual druggie, then.”   
“No. That’s for college.”   
“Ha. I’ll hear you there.”   
With all his strength, Kei sat back up. They started to have a little staring contest, Yamaguchi with raised eyebrows and Kei probably with a dumb look on his face. It was hard to tell if he was mixing as well, or even drunk. Either he held his liquor well, or he could have fun mostly sober. 

Out of nowhere, Yamaguchi burst out laughing and lost their competition. “Sorry, I just… your pupils are dilated _so_ unevenly.”   
As if touching his eyes would help. Kei shut them for a moment and massaged his lids. “Did that help at all?”   
It only made him laugh harder. “God, I love high people.” 

“I like your shoes,” he said, wanting to look down at the heeled ankle boots again, but not wanting to be weird. He did it anyway. 

Yamaguchi beamed. “Thank you! My friend, Hitoka, picked them out. Tonight’s a test run.”   
“I like them. You should wear them everyday.” 

“As much as I love your enthusiasm, it's definitely not as ideal as it seems.”   
“Why not?”  
“They’re heeled.”   
“And?”   
“They’re heeled.”   
“Can I ask you something?”   
Kei blacked out from there. 

The next morning, Kei woke up too fast, a rush of nausea and an extreme migraine coming over him. Light streamed in from windows that… weren’t his. A bit slower this time, he sat up, looking around at his surroundings. He’d been asleep on a couch that wasn't his. This was not his living room. In fact, it had been a room Kei had never stepped foot in before. Upon realising he couldn’t recognise his location, panic settled in. 

A sliding door coming from the back yard opened, Kei turning his head wildly in that direction. Things in his head settled down though. It was just Yamaguchi. 

“Oh, good afternoon.” The man said, putting out what was most likely the stub of a joint on an ashtray next to the door. “I was getting a little worried.”   
“What happened? Last night?” Kei instantly questioned, still concerned over where things could have possibly gone after he blacked out. 

Heeled boots, black shorts, and the rest of his clubbing attire had disappeared, Yamauguchi instead wearing a loose t-shirt and sweats. He sat on a chair next to the couch. “You started to get all dizzy and nauseous. I couldn’t get any real information about who you were with out of you, so I took you outside for air. You blew chunks on some guy’s shoes and could hardly walk, so we went back to my house. Passed out on my couch like thirty seconds after. If you didn’t wake up soon, I would’ve called for an ambulance or something.”   
_Oh. That’s it._

“And I didn’t say anything stupid?”   
Yamaguchi cocked his head. “Like what? I mean you kept muttering about your brother but that was it.”   
“Oh.”   
“Do you live with him?”   
“My brother? Yeah.”   
“Oh.” 

It was so uncomfortably quiet. His eyes burned from his dried out contacts. Head pounding, he felt his phone buzz in his back pocket. The buzz bounced around inside his skull, making everything worse. Grumpily, Kei grabbed it from his jeans before it could be any more aggravating. 

There were over forty notifications. 

“Ohhh, Jesus,” he murmured to himself, scrolling through some of the texts, missed calls, and even social media reach-outs. A great majority of those belonged to his brother. Before being able to do anything about it, however, his phone died. “Shit.”   
Yamaguchi’s interest had been piqued by all this. “What’s up? Do you need to leave?”   
“Actually, could I just borrow a phone charger?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please dont mix drugs  
> or take hard drugs at all. not really worth it. i dont condone it  
> anyway thank you for readingg, it means a lot believe me  
> remember to drink water and get enough sleep  
> cya next time^^


	5. the spiral runs backwards and forwards

“ _You’re an idiot. You know that? I thought you could’ve been dead somewhere._ ”   
“You’re too dramatic.” 

Kei had been on the phone with his brother for only a few seconds before getting bombarded with a rant filled with the underlying trust issues from Akiteru. He sat against the wall next to an outlet, phone plugged in. Yamaguchi awkwardly stood against an unlit and obviously unused chimney, trying to act like he wasn’t listening to the phone call. 

“ _It doesn't matter how dramatic I am. I’m allowed to be concerned about your well-being when you give me no information on where you’re going or when you get back. Especially when you never come back! Kei, I can’t trust you-”_ _  
_ _Ah. There it was._

 _“-if you’re going to just go around and-”_ _  
_ _He can’t trust_ me. _That’s funny._

 _“-get into trouble again I can only worry-”_ _  
_ _He’s the one that’s a liar but he can’t trust_ me. 

_“ -that I’ll get some call about you being dead or in a hospital-”_ _  
_ _Alright, that’s enough._ “Akiteru. Shut up. I’m twenty-five. I’m not a kid anymore and I can make alright decisions. Just lay off, would you?” 

There was silence on the other end for a moment. Honestly, the brothers rarely argued anymore. When Kei had graduated from university and moved in with him, there was a short period where things weren’t fine. There was a big fight and Kei just ignored him. They lived in the same two bedroom apartment, paid the same split bill, yet Kei simply acted as though Akiteru didn’t exist. 

That went on for seven months before it broke both of them. Ever since, they had been close, but things were different. Kei still wasn’t sure if he could trust Akiteru sometimes. 

_“Look. Just don’t pull that shit again. Call me when you’re coming home.”_ _  
_ “Okay.” 

_ “Okay.”  _

He sighed, tilting his head and glancing up at the ceiling. “I’ll see you later.”   
“ _Yup. Bye.”_ _  
_ Kei waited another few seconds. His brother had yet to hang up yet. He knew why. 

“ _Love you, Kei._ ”   
_Things were fine._

“Love you too.”   
_That didn’t have to happen again._

Kei clicked off the call. The man shifted off of the fireplace, taking a step forward. “Did that go as you’d hoped?”   
“He’s upset but of course he is. Could be worse. If I had ended up in a ditch dead somewhere he’d bring me back to life just to kill me again.” Kei put the phone on the floor and got up, crossing his arms. The more Yamaguchi stepped forward, the more clearly he could see him. Without either glasses or his contacts (he’d thankfully removed the dried up ones perhaps ten minutes ago) everything had become slightly out of focus the further away they were. 

“Oh, my parents are kind of like that. We don’t talk anymore, though.” He took a step back, acting as though he made himself uncomfortable despite adding onto it a shrug to make the look casual. “I have some good hangover tea, want some?”   
Kei had never heard of “hangover tea,” but judging by the current state of his _extreme_ hangover, he wasn’t about to turn that offer down. After giving a nod, Yamaguchi smiled with a thumbs up, motioning him towards the kitchen. 

There were a few noticeable things about his kitchen: 

  * Yamaguchi very obviously had weed in the very same cabinet that he kept tea in. This was neither slick nor safe. If his house ever got busted for some reason, court would be in his future. 
  * The floor tiles were half hand-painted, all of them having either a colourful pattern or an image. Kei had trouble looking away from one really well done that showed a city skyline with an orange sky. 
  * His old refrigerator had a few various NYC magnets and a photograph of a sports team taped to it. 
  * A yellow walkman sat on the counter with a pair of headphones. _How?_ A walkman in this decade? That was bizarre. 
  * To match that, a box of cassettes sat next to it, completely unorganized and filled to the brim. 



“Here,” He said, bringing Kei back to attention, “it’s still steeping, but basically done.”   
“Thanks,” he responded with another nod of gratitude. They both leaned against the counters awkwardly, both trying to come up with something to say at the same time. 

“I like your-”   
“So when do-”   
Yamaguchi laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry. You go first.” 

He swallowed. Something in his stomach stirred, making him feel almost nervous. To compensate, he took a sip of the tea still steeping. “I was just gonna say that I liked the floor tiles. Did you do that yourself?”   
“Yup! And thanks, I guess. Whenever I’m in a mood I just add to them. Last one I painted was…” Glancing down at the floor, he searched around for one, finally pointing to a tile that said ‘GROOVY’ in big, English letters. The pattern around it had alternating lines of green, yellow, and blue.   
“So you’re a painter?”  
“Nah. I just do it when I'm in a mood or I’m intoxicated, you know how it is.” He threw a wink with it, moving to sit on one of the counters. “I just like having stuff to do with my hands.”   
Kei nodded again, not really sure why his only responses today were that of a bobble-head figurine. “What was your question?” 

“It was lame. I was just gonna ask when you planned on leaving.” 

His face pulled a blank. 

Noticing this, Yamaguchi quickly waved his hands. “No, no, sorry I didn’t mean it like that, oh my god. Any guest is a welcome guest, believe me. Just wasn’t sure if you would want to stick around for long.” 

“Oh.”   
“Yeah.”   
“I mean, I wouldn’t mind just hanging out if you were fine with it. My phone needs to charge anyways.” 

“Cool.”  
“Cool.”   
  


Not that long later, they both sat outside on very old and sun-bleached lawn chairs, overlooking a sad and mostly concrete backyard. Although protected by the shade cast off the overhang of the roof, the afternoon summer sun was beating down on Tokyo. A bead of sweat dripped down the back of Kei’s neck. Yamaguchi talked with his hands, similar to Hinata, he took note. He had been talking about home-owning and how his place was falling apart no matter what he did. Every once in a while, Kei would nod or hum an agreement to whatever the other man was saying. It was both easy and impossible to imagine this version of Yamaguchi as being the same as the other two versions he had met. Part of him wondered how many versions of himself he’d shown Yamaguchi. 

It took an awkwardly long amount of time for him to realize neither of them were talking. An unsettling silence had settled over the two, the sound of the world around them sizzling in the sun feeling as though it were louder than their lack of conversation.   
_He should say something. He needed to. What do I even say?_ _  
_ Every part of him felt tensed up, not sure whether the silence was hostile or not. When would someone speak? It definitely had to be him. Was this a test? It felt like a test. 

_ What do I say? People like to talk about themselves. What do I ask?  _

“Do you like sports?” Was the awful choice he decided to blurt out, remembering the photograph taped to his fridge. 

Yamaguchi appeared to be mildly entertained by this question, but did nothing to explain why. He shrugged, closing his eyes. “Yeah. I used to play volleyball in college. Don’t anymore.”   
It was very short and to the point. Things were about to go quiet again. “Got tired of it or something?” 

“That’s one way to put it.”   
_How had this turned so horribly awkward?_

“So what’s your story?” he continued without waiting for Kei to respond. “Big shot radio DJ that also just happens to crash at my house from mixing? How does that one happen?” 

“Ha,” he breathed out a semi-uncomfortable laugh, “not really sure myself. I got into music in uni and took the job a year or two after I got out. The mixing thing was an, um, rarity, however. I don’t get out that much anymore.”   
  
“I think one of my friends works at your station. That or a different one, I’m not sure.” 

_ If he says Nishinoya I’m going to scream _

“Oh?” Kei sat up a little bit to look over. “What’s their name?” 

_ Please don’t say Nishinoya.  _

“Hitoka. Well- er I guess you’d know her as Yachi. Familiarities and such.” Yamaguchi waved his hand as he spoke, thankfully not noticing the fact that Kei’s blood had begun to run cold. 

_ Ah. That’s considerably worse.  _

“Do you know her?” He asked when Kei hadn’t responded. 

“Oh, ha, no. I don’t get much time to meet the others at the station.”   
_Ha. Fuck._

The thought fermented in his mind throughout the day. On the ride home in a silent cab, in the still ice-cold shower, as Akiteru barked the same worried speech from the phone as he got out a bowl of cereal. The girl he fucked and Yamaguchi were pals. That was superb. 

_ At least he didn’t know.  _

_ Yeah, okay.  _

The rest of the time he spent with Yamaguchi felt overly awkward for him due to that, but only one party seemed to notice. They briefly spoke about news, music, and Tokyo until Kei figured he should leave. It wasn’t rude (he hoped) and admittedly was a bit abrupt, but part of him knew he had to leave. 

The two shouldn’t be hanging out. 

It was a courtesy for Yamaguchi, Kei decided, that the two would never speak again. A difficult decision that brewed over and over in his head through the rest of their interactions. He had no time for people. He wasn’t even sure if there was time for his old friends. That was probably a mistake as well, to go out. Just getting people’s hopes up again and again and again. 

“What was it that you did last night?” Akiteru asked in a more calm voice when the two were at the table, eating a midday meal of cereal. It had been the same way since they were kids. Kei ate it dry, Akiteru ate it with milk. 

“Jesus, Mom, I hadn’t realised you’d moved in,” he muttered under his breath. 

His brother glared up at him. “I’m just curious.”   
“We drank. That was it.” 

“How much?”  
“I dunno.”   
“And you didn’t take anything?”   
_This was ridiculous._ “Christ almighty, man. We just did shots and I spent the night at a friend’s house. It wasn’t that deep.”   
He knew he meant well, he really did, but being treated like he was still a teenager was so annoying that he had to get up from the table with his bowl, going away to his room to eat. Sometimes his room was the only place to be peaceful. With the slam of the door, however, Kei couldn’t help but feel sixteen again. 

With a sigh, he sat down on the floor against his bed, bowl on top of his thigh. It was dark. The shades were always pulled tightly, making everything just a bit more cool. Closing his eyes for a moment, he just breathed slowly, thinking things over once again. 

_ ‘Could always just cut everyone off.  _

_ But WHY?  _

_ I don’t need them. They don’t need me.  _

_ You’re gonna die alone at this rate.  _

_ Don’t be so edgy, Jesus.  _

His phone dinged, notification bringing him back to reality for a moment. Glancing down at the screen, three thoughts went through his head. 

1- He read the name wrong. 

2- Was this a joke?   
3- _Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me._

Unlocking his phone, he opened the text message. Reading the same, short message over and over again didn’t help at all. If anything, it made his hands start to perspire. Too many emotions ran around his mind to pick a particular tone to respond with. Due to this, he just left his phone open on the floor, getting up and leaving the room, text message still on screen. 

  
**bokuto:** let’s reunite for the tokyo concert. wanna give it another go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this literally took like two months or something  
> this chapter is ASS and NOTHING happens which is why i got stuck on it for so long omg  
> anyway so im gonna try and actually finish this cuz there's another part to the story i wanna get done after this one  
> ty for reading esPECIALLY after this ass chapter  
> also wash your hands and STAY HOME bruh, stay healthy babes


	6. the effect of purple

_ Red. Blue. Green. Purple. Pink. Red. Blue. Green. Purple. Pink.  _

Kei clicked through the different colours of the LED light remotes over and over, waiting for the commercial break to end. Someone had recently installed the lights to the booth, making things a little more alternative-looking than usual. 

“ _ Minty fresh for you and me _ ,” he sings under his breath along with that dumbass advert. Ten seconds til he’s on the air. 

Rolling over to the desk, he set down the remote and pressed the button to start the bumper music. Four seconds. The lights got stuck to green as he worked, making a little harder to decipher which button was which. He’d have to change that when he was done. Two seconds. 

“Gooood evening, Tokyo,” Kei spoke into the mic, reading over the script he’d written previously today, ”Hope you night owls are having a pleasant two a.m. experience. To keep that good mood up, we have for you some underground end-of-the-world rock, but first let’s talk about the real exciting news-”  _ was it?  _ “-Black Jackals, surprising Tokyo with a concert in two weeks to celebrate their new album that just dropped recently!  _ Airhead  _ was met with great reviews, both from critics and normie listeners alike! Tune into 113.1 back again tomorrow to hear about our exciting raffle for free tickets!” 

He paused, glancing at his phone on the desk. 

_ let’s reunite for the tokyo concert _

Fuck. His train of thought. 

_ wanna give it another go?  _

What was he supposed to be saying? “Er, um, anyway. That’s all from me. Stay tuned for thirty minutes of uninterrupted end-of-the-world rock.” He clicked off air and cued the music.   
_FUCK._

Kei’s eyes darted to the script. He’d forgotten to mention several things. A rush of annoyance came over him as he kicked the leg of the desk, watching everything wobble on top. That was going to mess up his timing for the rest of the _fucking_ night. He'd have to re-do _so_ many playlist plans and cues.  
_wanna give it another go?_

_ “ _ No. Fuck.” 

_ another go?  _

He slipped off his headphones, standing up and looking around in the green light. It was so  _ fucking  _ aggravating when he messed up. It had been about a week since he last saw Yamaguchi. They hadn’t seen each other nor spoken since. Nobody except Hinata ever texted him. He had gotten several messages from him over the past few days. Things such as, “friday was fun!” or “was getting burgers with yamayama. the fries reminded me of you, salty ass.” Kei’s responses were always short and to the point; easily tempting to make him get left on read. However, they only seemed to instigate  _ more  _ texts. 

One week since he’d decided to ghost Yamaguchi. One week since that stupid fucking text. One week since breaking sobriety after years.   
One week since he wanted that initial high back. 

_ Shit… _

_ wanna give it another go?  _

Did he? Kei hadn’t seen them in years. He clicked the remote button again, changing the colour until it got to pink. 

_ Click. Click. Click.  _ Fuck. He missed it. 

_ Click.  _

_ wanna give it another go?  _

Click. 

_ let’s reunite for the tokyo concert _

_ Click.  _

_ wanna give it?  _

_ Click.  _

_ One more fucking go?  _

Out of the corner of his vision, Kei eyed the phone again. Clicking his tongue with an annoyed exhale, he made his way back to his rolling chair. He would just ignore it. After messing with the EQ settings for a minute or two, he finally caved in and picked up his phone. Instead of responding to the damned text, he instead went to instagram. His own feed was aesthetically pleasing in a grunge sort of way, with very short or nonexistent captions and very candid photos of either himself or equipment. Surprisingly similar to Nishinoya (whom he followed despite never speaking to), he was verified due to his job and the label he’d gotten for it. Hinata was his only other friend to be verified.   
Kei ended up scrolling through Hinata’s feed, just seeing his online persona. It wasn’t that different from him in real life, but there was hardly any “bad” behavior or reference to what was probably an addiction of sorts. It was weird to be overly aware of his status. Hinata was sort of famous, in an online way. He was a major subject in several of his company’s videos and had his own little following on social media full of people that would have his own face as profile pictures. He couldn’t imagine. 

Morbid curiosity begged him to find Yamaguchi’s profile, but common sense won the battle over his actions. Ghosting. They were ghosting. It would be pointless to find him and then obsess over wanting to see him again. 

_ If you like him, why are you ignoring him?  _

_ I don’t like anybody. I don’t need to like anybody.  _

_ Pussy.  _

Yeah. Fair enough. 

“The night’s coming to an end as the sun rises over Tokyo this morning. Thanks, night owls, for having me. This is Tsukishima, signing off, but first let’s hear a classic before I go.”

It was four-thirty as he cued the next playlist and packed up his bag like he did every day. He felt so entirely exhausted. More than usual. The ride home would feel longer than usual. Kei turned off the LED lights, for some reason not wanting Nishinoya to know he was using it. Unplugging his headphones from the computer, he kept them around his neck as he walked out of the building. 

“Tsu-ki-shi-maaa, morning!” Nishinoya grinned and held up his fist. As per usual, Kei planned on ignoring him. This time, however, he stopped for a moment. Considering. Despite this, he just nodded and walked back out of the building. 

Didn’t make sense for him to try and make friends now. Everyone had to stay at a distance. 

Despite the cloud of underlying stress that hung over Kei’s head, the summer morning shone through as the perfect start to any day. The best part of the day was from four and ended at seven. The city didn’t feel alive yet. Everything was hardly crawling from life. 

Kei could feel alone without being lonely. 

The only motivation he had to get home was so he could fall asleep. His eyes were always heavy, but today they felt heavier than usual. It wouldn’t be difficult to believe that the bags under his eyes were growing darker by the minute. 

As soon as he arrived home, he headed straight for his room. There was no more point in being awake anymore. 

“Morning!” Akiteru called out as he left for work, not even batting an eye from being ignored. 

It took around five minutes after hitting the pillow to fall asleep, dreaming of cryptic heeled boots. 

“Fuck!” His eyes flew open, sitting up in bed. He was still wearing his clothes from yesterday. God. Heeled boots changed to scuffed sneakers. Kei needed a tylenol. 

Reaching for his phone on the nightstand to check the time, it was soon to be discovered that it wasn’t there. Or in his pockets. Or in his bag. 

“Oh, you’re kidding me,” Kei groaned after sifting through every part of his car’s interior. He’d have to head back to the station. 

It was only eleven, meaning Nishinoya would still be there if he got there in time. Traffic was iffy generally by now, especially seeing as it was nearing lunch. He so desperately didn’t want to deal with the interaction he was planning in his head, but it would have to happen anyway. 

_Hey, did I leave my phone here?_ _  
_ _Yeah, but you never talk to me, so I threw it in the street to get crushed by a cement mixer. Fair trade?_ _  
_ Obviously that wasn’t what was going to happen, but it sure felt like it at this point. 

Walking through the front doors was easy. Walking through the employees only door was easy. Making his way down the dim hallway was easy as all hell. Standing outside the booth however, watching Nishinoya speak into the mic with great animation and matching facial expressions to his voice was difficult. It was impossible all of a sudden. The two caught each other’s gaze, Nishinoya raising an eyebrow, but continuing his live show with ease. 

Kei tried to mime “phone” to him with little success, the other man cocking his head. 

“Phone! I left my phone!” He spoke out loud softly, pointing to the booth. Instead of a normal confused reply, Nishinoya held up five fingers and mouthed “wait.”   
Kei nodded, leaning against the wall with a sigh. This was _so_ unideal. 

After five or six minutes, Nishinoya ripped off his headphones and picked up his phone, holding it up with question. Kei nodded enthusiastically and watched as he came out of the booth with it in his hand. 

“Hmm, do you even deserve it? After ignoring my millions of fistbumps?”   
_Oh, Christ. This was what I thought was_ unrealistic. 

“I didn’t want to catch “morning-show-host's disease”,” Kei shot back, knowing it was stupid. 

“I’ll give it back to you… _if_ you go on my lunch break with me.” He said with a grin and a hand on his hip. Was he serious?   
“What, is that like a joke?”   
“Nah, I just think you need to socialize with your co-workers better.” 

_ I did fuck one of them, _ he thought to himself. Nishinoya would most likely not be getting the same treatment, however. 

He sighed. “Fine. Can I just get it back now?” 

“Of course! Buuut, I’ll need you to wait in the booth with me. Just so I know you won’t skip out on me.” Nishinoya held out the phone, hardly waiting for Kei to take it before beckoning him back into the booth with him. This was stupid and uncomfortable. It couldn’t get worse than this. 

Unlocking his phone, there were two things to notice:  
1- A profile followed him on instagram that sounded suspiciously like it could belong to Yamaguchi. _Was he psychic or some shit?_

And 2- He had a new text. 

**bokuto:** meet us at symposium friday? 

The Symposium wasn’t a real place. It was real for them, but other than it being an abandoned camping ground near the university Kei attended, it wasn’t real. It hadn’t _been_ real for years. Not in Kei’s memory, at least.   
He took a seat on the vinyl couch that sat in the booth. He hardly ever sat there due to it normally being covered in paperwork, CDs upon CDs, and shot equipment. Nishinoya must have organized in the earlier hours of his shift. 

Said man took his seat back in the rolling chair, placing his headphones around his neck and turning towards Kei. “Do you like ramen?” 

Kei gave him a look. “Who doesn’t like ramen?”   
“Well, you always look so grumpy, I figured you wouldn’t.”   
“What does that even me-”   
Nishinoya held up a finger to silence him, quickly pulling up a tab on the computer to show the current times and length left in the commercial before he would have to cue the bumper. It was off slightly, one of the most aggravating things to deal with. He’d have to take out a song or something due to the delay of time. That or leave it for the next shift. There was a bit of style in the way Nishinoya clicked buttons and spoke into the mic. Everything about him screamed “expert”. It was almost annoying, but overwhelmingly impressive. Kei would never tell him that, though. He looked back down at his phone, signing into the station’s instagram page, taking a short video of Nishinoya and posting it to their story. 

“Oh, that’s a cute angle of me,” Nishinya says, looking down at the story posted as they wait for their meal. 

“Hm?” Looking up, Kei had almost forgotten about it. “Oh. I thought it’d look good to listeners.”   
His co-worker laughed slightly. “Of course. Sex sells.”   
“That’s- what?” 

Their conversation was less awful than Kei had previously imagined. It was a bit taxing to keep up with his… big personality, but in his head he always figured things would be worse. He’d been thrown into a situation where he had to think of this man as someone with a life outside of Kei’s, not just existing in those thirty seconds where he got ignored. Nishinoya ordered a vegan ramen without explanation. His phone case was purple. There was a tattoo of a lightning bolt on his left wrist, and a broken CD on his right bicep. He was just another person with a life that Kei knew absolutely nothing about. 

To be honest, it was partially unsettling.

“So,” he started as he twirled his cup around, “can I ask why I never get a fist bump? Not that it’s _THAT_ big of a deal or anything. Not like it breaks my heart or whatever.”   
Kei was betting whether he’d spill the drink or not. “I dunno. I don’t really interact with strangers.”   
“Well, now we’re not. Therefore your argument is invalid. And you have to fistbump me every single time I see you now.” 

_ Damn.  _

“I mean, alright.”   
“You’re so grumpy, aren’t you?”   
“Maybe.”   
“Night-workers always are.”   
_Point taken._

Tsukishima’s phone went off with a notification, an unknown yet familiar number lighting up his screen with a text on the table. 

**UNKNOWN:** hey! it’s been a while!

**UNKNOWN:** wanna get coffee sometime? 

Nishinoya had wandering eyes that could read upside down. “Ooh, who’s that? You have a giiiirlfriend?”   
“No,” he shook his head with a sigh, “it’s the girl who does the evening shift before me.”   
“No fuckin’ way, a _girl_ works with us? Is she cute?”   
It was funny seeing his eyes light up so fast. The man looked love-struck and he hadn’t even met Yachi. 

“She’s cute, yeah. We only went out one time, though.”    


_ “Do you wanna go back to your place?” She asked as they filed through different vinyls at the same music store he always went to. Every once in a while she would hold up an LP with a funny or bizarre cover art and point to it saying, ‘this is you’ or ‘this is me’.  _

_ “My place? It’s not that interesting,” he scanned over an album he had never heard of before with very long song titles before it hit him. Glancing over, Yachi looked him up and down in a way that made it very clear what she had intended him to get at.  _

_ Ah.  _

Their orders came to the table, Kei giving the waiter a quick thanks before snapping apart his chopsticks. Nishinoya looked betrayed. 

“ _ One time _ ? Go out with her again! Not all of us get cuties to switch out shifts with! No offense or whatever, but like! You know what I mean!” He dramatically leaned his head on the table. “You and Kyotani aren’t exactly on my  _ Cuties List _ .” 

Kei had noodles halfway to his mouth when he stopped and raised an eyebrow. “What the hell is a _Cuties List_?”   
“A mental list of every cutie I’ve ever seen that I desperately want to go out with.” For some reason the expression he gave was as though Kei should have already known this super obvious fact. 

“Of course.”   
“So, you gonna text her back or what?” 

“Jesus, calm down.” 

Picking up his phone, he stared at the number he had previously deleted.  _ God, I should have blocked it _ . Too many things were running through his head. He didn’t like her like that. She liked him like that. Knowing him, they’d end up fucking again. She was friends with Yamaguchi. What if he had brought him up to her? 

Instead of replying, he went back to the conversation (or lack of, therefore) with Bokuto. 

  
  


**bokuto:** let’s reunite for the tokyo concert. wanna give it another go?

**bokuto:** meet us at symposium friday? 

This was aggravating. Two conversations filled with things he didn’t particularly care for. He wasn’t even sure if he didn’t care for them or not. Kei wasn’t sure what he wanted; a constant motif that had been in his life this summer. 

Lunch had not been eventful after that. Nishinoya talked a lot, Kei listened a lot. He started off a bit annoying, but after a while it was easy to get used to him. It was easy to assume he’d get well with Hinata or Tanaka. In a reality where Kei was fun and wanted to go out with them again, maybe he’d invite his co-worker. 

This wasn’t that reality, however. 

Befriending him had led to a little bit of a secret being spilled, however. Apparently, Kyotani and Nishinoya had a secret compartment in a locked cabinet filled with booze and rolling papers. It wasn’t like he would snitch, but at  _ work?  _ Kei would never be that stupid. Wasn’t like he said anything like that, however. Good to know, at least. 

As he hung off the side of his bed, glasses off, staring at the blurry closed bedroom door with a hand-painted Black Jackals poster. For the first time in a while, he wondered why it was still up. There were three hours until he had to go to work. Three hours to re-think all of his decisions. 

Time was such a waste of life. 

His life had become a waste of time. 

In those three hours, one of three possibilities got texted under the influence of unalloyed aggravated emptiness. 

_ Click.  _

The sound of the record needle running out of music to play. Soft music had turned to silence, with the occasional run of the needle over a bump in the flawed LP. 

_ Click.  _

Forty minutes until he was supposed to be at work. How was it getting late already? 

_ Click.  _

Within one week, Kei had grown sick of ghosting. The blood had rushed to his head so long ago, pooling in his brain and causing a horrid headache. 

_Ding!_ _  
_ Something new. Getting up from the upside down, he glanced at his phone. Something new. Something out of his comfort zone. A text turned into a call. Little hesitation went into picking up the phone. 

“Hello?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> evening guys hope you're well  
> nishinoya is my fave character i miss him  
> anyway make sure you're washing your hands, staying home, and staying healthy  
> thanks 4 reading nerds  
> cya


	7. chasing that high

_ The quiet crunch of fresh snow under every heavy footstep was the only real sound in the world. Birdsong was gone, there were little people around, you could hardly even hear traffic.  _

_ It was suffocating.  _

_ Kei continued treading through the snow, only pausing to pull his headphones over his ears. As soon as he pressed play, loud bass lines began to take over the deafening silence of the real world. The past month, he’d managed to get into acid jazz. Being nostalgic for a time he didn’t actually know was fun. 1980s club jazz was really all he wanted in the modern world. Imagining himself as the next Mondo Grosso was admittedly something he did a lot.  _

_The heavily snowed over trail finally came out into a clearing of sorts. Kei’s hike came to a stop, teeth wanting to chatter from the lack of movement keeping him warm. There was a large fire pit in the centre, looking as though it hadn’t been used in a long time. Especially not in the snow. Old picnic tables and logs carved for sitting were scattered around with small grills and what looked like an abandoned outhouse on the far left side of the clearing. Not a single soul in sight. The sun was to set in around forty minutes. From then on, the chilling temperature would only continue to drop._ _  
__Did they lie to me?_ _  
__In a fit of underlying nervousness screaming to break the surface of his normally calm self, Kei ran a hand over his head, feeling the recently buzzed haircut he had gotten. A nervous habit. It was cold as shit. He was cold as shit. He had been stood up. He’d have to find his way back to the dorms in the dark. How was it so fucking cold in just November? Wasn’t climate change a thing?_ _  
__“Yo! Tsukishima!”_

_ Kei spun around in an instant at the voice calling to him from behind.  _

The first thing he noticed was the hair. 

_ It’s blue,  _ he thought to himself as he was asphyxiated with a hug from Bokuto. The air was hot and humid enough already, weighing down the world around it. 

“Look at you! You’re so grown up!” His old friend said, taking a step back and seemingly admiring Kei. The tips of his hair that used to be silver were now a vibrant Prussian blue. 

“I was already grown up when you last saw me,” he sighed in a disappointed tone, not letting any of his conflicting emotions burst through the shell he had so built up stronger since that one year. 

Kuroo put both of his hands on Kei’s cheeks, squishing him. “No! You were like our baby! Our little golden child!” 

_ Why the fuck did I come here?  _

“It’s good to see you, dude,” Akaashi added. He had changed a little bit too. Frosted tips. Snakebites on his eyebrow. Winged eyeliner. 

Kuroo was the only one who looked exactly like he existed in Kei’s memory. Funny hair. Strong from drumming. There was some large tattoo from his shoulder to his elbow, very visible from the tank top he wore. That was new, at least. 

“C’mon, sit with us! I brought some refreshments.” Bokuto pulled Kuroo’s hands from Kei’s face and made him motion to the picnic table with a large bag on it. Same brand on the bag that Yamaguchi held in the music store. 

The four headed over, albeit one a bit hesitant. Akaashi helped Bokuto pull out three bottles of wine and some very "classy", large paper cups. The two talked amongst themselves as Kei sat on top of the backrest of the bench, thinking quietly to himself. On its own accord, his hand went to run through his longer hair, twirling a strand absentmindedly. An unidentifiable emotion was clouding his judgement. 

Kuroo moved to sit next to him, elbowing a little too hard into his arm. “Getting a little long, dude. Harder to see your eyes.”   
“Haven’t had time to get it cut,” he mumbled back. Unidentifiable got a little more clear. 

“Hope you still like white wine,” Bokuto handed him a very full paper cup with piss coloured liquid inside. Kei hated white wine. 

“Thanks.” The overly-dry tone was something he’d tried stopping last year, but boy did it shine through right now. 

The four cheers-ed and Kei couldn’t help but notice the way Akaashi plugged his nose with his fingers and gulped it down. When he was done, it looked like he wanted to puke. Chugging wine was stupid, but he understood why. Honestly, after the long sip of drawing the drink into his mouth, he had wished he’d plugged his nose too. 

“You’re such a high schooler for doing that. Little baby Akaashi can’t drink wine.” Teasing him and poking him in the side repeatedly until he got swatted away, Bokuto held a grin on his face that turned to Kei. “So what do you do now? What does our baby Kei do when he doesn’t run away from real life with the coolest people in Tokyo?”   
He scoffed at that. “Yeah, that’s you alright.” Kei took another sip. Bigger. It was definitely more than a sip. Wine burned the back of his throat. “I’m a radio DJ. I work the night shift every day.”   
“Uwahh! Every _day?_ When do you sleep?”   
“During the day for a few hours.”   
“Vampire life always suited you,” Akaashi said. He set down a now empty cup. 

_ Jesus.  _

“What, no DJing today?” Kuroo prodded. The sun having already set caused a harsh shadow over everything. It was getting damn dark. 

“Took the night off.”   
“We’re honoured.”   
Another gulp. The feeling of warmth spread in the bottom of his stomach. Did they not know? Did they forget? How could they not see him differently after what happened?   
As the other three began to talk about something Kei wasn’t paying attention to, he pulled out his phone and opened the notification of a new follower once again. From the looks of it, it was 100% Yamaguchi. His profile wasn’t sparse, lots of photos of him and Yachi. Just as expected. Of course they had to be close. Scrolling for about two minutes straight led to _OLD_ old pictures. His hair used to be a different colour every month it seemed. Now the dark green looked good. Suited him. The colour that appeared to be the most frequent was a soft pink colour around the same time as he was in New York. Among the sports team pictures and city pictures was lots and lots of pink. The last of the pink was a picture of him in a hospital bed with a thumbs up. _Huh._

“Who’s that? A friend?” Kuroo peered over his shoulder, startling him enough to immediately turn his phone back off. 

“Yeah.”   
“Ah.”   
“Yup.”   
Feeling awkward made him reach for his half empty cup. With a sigh, he plugged his nose and gulped the rest. The nausea after was so extreme.

Akaashi pointed at this. “Look! I’m not the only fuckin’ one. Jesus.”   
It took a few seconds for the bad feeling to wear off. As soon as he was poured another cup like everyone else, he noticed it beginning to hit. Whenever he moved his head, his eyes lagged behind ever so slightly. His lips were starting to feel a little numb. 

“So, we do have something we wanna talk about.”   
_That’s what bitches say in movies before they jump you._

“Mhm,” he responded, watching Bokuto forming his thoughts. 

His old friend took a long sip. “We want you back.” 

_Back_?   
“Back?”   
“We want you back with us in the band.”   
  


_“Chew thoroughly,” Akaashi instructed him. “You gotta make sure all of the juices are like, there. Works faster.”_ _  
__Kei watched him with careful eyes, doing so. After what felt like too long to be chewing, Akaashi made a swallowing motion. He swallowed. They didn’t taste like much to him, the shrooms. He’d never done shrooms before and had no idea what to expect, but Akaashi promised it would be worth it._

 _“Did you eat dinner?”_ _  
__“No.”_ _  
__“Ah. Good luck, then.”_ _  
__“What?”_ _  
__About twelve minutes later, he understood what that meant. Someone’s hand was rubbing his back as he would periodically convulse over the garbage barrel. He didn’t want to vomit. He didn’t want to vomit._

_ Holy fuck he was gonna puke. _

_“You’ll be fine. The first time is hard for everyone.”_ _  
__It sounded like Kuroo. That was comforting. He was bent over that garbage barrel for a century, just focusing on not puking. It would be a waste, right? He couldn’t afford to waste it. They never made him pay, he couldn’t waste their money._

_ Then out of nowhere, everything was fine. Slowly, Kei stood back up straight, confused when nobody was there with him. The others had built a fire, all three sitting around it and laughing.  _

_ “Holy shit,” he said, taking a short step forward and trying not to fall.  _

_ The trees were moving like they were underwater.  _

_ Shadows cast from the fire were dancing around, reaching all the way over to him before moving back to the fire. He continued to walk over, never appreciating the feeling of walking more.  _

_ Kei was alive.  _

_ The world was alive.  _

_ “Hey! Look who’s returned from the dead!” Bokuto said with a smile, slapping him on the back when he took a seat next to him on the log.  _

_ He felt too distracted to respond. The fire folded inwards on itself. It would move down to the ashes and then shoot back up. It looked like jelly. Looking down at his fingers, he could watch the light leap and dance across his wiggling fingers.  _

_ Kei had never been more alive.  _

_ From the corner of the world, he could hear someone speak.  _

_ “Nothing like watching a man on shrooms for the first time, huh?”  _

Three cups. Three big ass cups of that… of that  _ piss. JESUS,  _ Kei hated white wine. The bottles were emptied about ten minutes ago, Bokuto and Kuroo now competing to see if they could successfully stack them on top of each other without destruction. 

About half an hour since the big statement of the year. Lord . 

_ “We want you back with us in the band.”  _

_Kei widened his eyes. “You do?”_ _  
__“Yeah, dude. Producer, song-writer, roadie, whatever. We want you with us.” Bokuto looked serious about that._ _  
__“But why?”_ _  
__“Why does it matter? Wouldn’t you rather have the dream job rather than slave yourself to a radio station?”_ _  
  
_

He didn’t slave himself to it. He took tonight off. He took that one Friday off as well. Kei liked working there. 

Telling them he’d think about it was the most conflicting decision. This was serious. Very serious. This would change the rest of his life, whether he liked it or not. Every dynamic would change. Black Jackals were on the rise in the music industry. Just seeing by how the new album was received by the public, they were sure to continue going up. After all, they genuinely had improved so much since university. 

It was a little hard to stand. Honestly, it was a little hard to  _ think _ . Those three cups were a lot. Like an idiot, Kei hadn’t eaten. Why did he never eat? 

_ It’s not like I knew we’d be drinking.  _

_No, idiot, you definitely thought you’d be something._ _  
__I didn’t expect drinking._

_ Yeah, idiot bastard. You expected drugs.  _

Kei had expected drugs and he still came. 

He wasn’t drunk. 

Making his way over to the empty fire pit, Kei stumbled, almost tripping. His head was so heavy on his neck. Why were his lips always numb? He ran his teeth over them, realising that his teeth too, felt numb. He was numb in general. 

Okay, so he was drunk. 

Every cell in his brain that told him to stop was too clouded over as he picked up his phone from his pocket. The little rectangle felt so weird in his hands. Just a huge little rectangle. He flipped it over in his hands a few times before unlocking it, calling up Hinata, It couldn’t have been later than 12:30. Would he be at a club right now? There was no call this week to go out. Perhaps Kei had been taken off the invite list. 

That last thought stung a little bit. 

“ _ Tsukishima? _ ” Hinata picked up, startling Kei. He had forgotten he was actually calling. 

“Hi.”   
“ _Did you need something?_ ” He sounded tired. The background was quiet. No club. Or if there was, he was in an isolated spot. 

_ Did he?  _ There was no particular reason in his head when he called.  _ Wait.  _ “Oh. Um, hi. I just, uh I wanted to say hi. Ohh, and then I wanted to say I think we should all deeeefinitely hang out again. Sometime. Whenever.” 

Silence. There was a pause for what felt like forever. “ _Are you okay?_ ”   
“Just out of it.”   
“ _You sound drunk._ ”   
“Okay and?”   
Hinata sighed. “ _Okay, yeah. You’re drunk. We can all hang out sometime, yeah. I have a huge project that has to be done this weekend so I’m busy. Editing got pushed back a day by filming and now Terushima ditched Kenma and I to go out so it’s just a two-man team in an EMPTY office and…”_ _  
_ Kei stayed quiet, listening to Hinata rant about his co-worker and project. Sometime during this, he had sat down on the ground, staring at an imaginary fire. Every movement was a little too fast. His head was too heavy. There was a loud crash of bottles and glass breaking behind him, with laughs and yells to follow. 

“... _ so now Kenma is taking a nap on the FLOOR because he didn’t sleep last night or something and Premiere Pro has crashed TWICE in the past two hours. I’m not a keyboard slammer like Kageyama but I’ve never felt more violent in my life. _ ” Once again, he paused as if realising he had been ranting to someone very drunk who was not taking any of this in. “ _ Tsuk-i-shi-ma. _ ” Hinata said, all matter-of-fact. 

“Hm?”   
“ _Why are you drunk?_ ”   
“‘M hanging out with friends.” 

“ _Friends aside from us? Uwahhh! I’m so upset. You’re cheating on our friend group! Is this why you never go out with us? Are you hanging out with_ other _friends?”_ _  
_ A quiet laugh slipped out. It wouldn’t normally, but right now it was funny. Things were funny. “No, stupid. I just say no because I’m mean. I haven’t hung out with these guys since…” He looked behind him at the three. Bokuto caught his eye and held up his arms in a big ‘x’ shape. 

“No drunk calling! It’s never a good idea!” He yelled at him. 

Kei laughed  _ again.  _ “It’s just been a while. I’m catching up.” 

“ _ Uh huh. Well don’t get too attached. You’re stuck with us. I’ll plan something for next week, okay? Just our group, no clubs.”  _ A voice in the background of the other line asked Hinata who he was talking to. “ _ Kenma’s awake, gotta get back to work. See you, Drunk-ishima.”  _

The line goes dead and the call feels like it ended just as it started.

Another text rings his phone just after, however. Glancing down, he sees a notification about some DM on instagram. It’s too hard to read, however. The phone screen feels like it’s moving around a little too much to actually read. Using two hands, he grips the phone and reads it. 

**thereal.yamaguchi:** hey, it’s been a minute 

“Wow,” he says to himself. He really did want to ghost him. This was such a bad idea to talk. Kei was just going to end up hurting someone. 

Someone grabbed his phone from behind. “What, now you’re drunk _texting_? So flirtatious, Tsukishima.”   
With great struggle and failure, Kei attempted to retrieve his phone from Kuroo. “Someone else texted me first.”   
“Ooh, is this the friend you were looking at earlier?” Kuroo asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Are you guys gonna… hang out?” The emphasis on that last part made Kei smack his shin. 

“What is wrong with you? It’s just a dude I know. A dude.”   
“Never stopped you before.”   
A pit grew in his stomach. A million thoughts ran through his head, yet he couldn’t seem to form a single sentence. 

Kuroo continued. “Sounds like he wants to, anyway. Here, I’ll help.” 

“No, stop.”   
He held up a finger, as if telling him to wait as he texted back with one hand. “See? If you’re gonna be a bitch about it, just cancel tomorrow.” 

_ Fuck you.  _

Kei, in fact, did not cancel the next day. That same morbid curiosity is what got him through a nauseated hungover state to be on this quiet walk down an old railroad. No one else was around, just the two of them walking the grown-over train route. Despite the sun burning through his t-shirt, it was hard to focus on the heat. He could only focus on the silence. 

Neither of them had spoken a lot in the total hour it had taken to get from the city to this spot now. Yamaguchi had asked him about his day, they had briefly spoken about the weather, but despite that, it was so incredibly quiet. 

It was unfair. 

He hated the quiet so much for some reason. 

The quiet made everything uncontrollable. 

_ The snow felt so cold against his back, yet it was so relaxing to lay back in it. The stars buzzed around like fireflies, and a beautiful crescent moon dripped down in the night sky. Hardly even looking down from the sky, Kei pulled his headphones over his ears. Acid jazz flowed through his veins, making everything a bit more colourful. He could  _ see  _ the music. He could  _ see  _ how it made the world dance.  _

_ He felt completely so completely alive.  _

“So,” Yamaguchi finally started, “why music?” 

Kei looked ahead at a bridge going over the tracks, covered in graffiti. “Like why do I work with music?” 

“Yeah.”   
He thought about it. “I just like it. Like it can make thousands of people feel the same way but touch them differently. I like that.” 

“Do you write music?”   
“I used to.”   
“Why’d you stop?”   
_Too easy. Of course he was gonna ask that. “_ Dunno. Ran out of things to write about.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Yamaguchi give him a funny look. “Why cars?” 

The other man laughed. Like,  _ laughed  _ laughed. “I just do it ‘cuz my uncle owns the shop. I’m good with my hands and it’s satisfying to fix something. I guess that’s why I keep doing it.” 

Once they reached the bridge, it took Kei a few steps to realise that Yamaguchi had stopped. Pulling out a small tin from his pocket, he watched him pull out one of three pre-rolled joints. He didn’t feel like asking about it. The man could smoke if he wanted to. The two leaned on opposite walls of the bridge, cool concrete feeling refreshing after walking in the boiling sun for an hour. Yamaguchi lit up, took a hit, and slowly blew out, looking at Kei from the smoke. 

“I used to be a sports guy. One of those people that lived their life around one game, so when I stopped I didn’t have that much left to do. Cars just keep me busy. Want a hit?” He held out the joint towards him between two fingers. 

_What is happening to my life?_ _  
_ Without hesitating much, he pushed off the wall and took the joint. Their fingers brushed past in the process, a buzz of excitement flying through his skull. 

“So what about you, then? Why’d  _ you  _ stop, if it was, like, your thing.” He took a hit, memory serving him well to hold his smoke and not look like a loser for coughing. 

“Broke my back.”   
_Oh._

“Oh. I’m sorry.”   
“It’s whatever. Past is the past.” 

_ Maybe that was the wrong question.  _ He didn’t get much time to think over how bad he felt now, because Yamaguchi carried on. 

“Hey, at the station you should make a mix or something. Like one night be like,” He put on an impression of his radio voice, “‘this one goes out to all the potheads under bridges rethinking their lives,’ and I’ll be like, ‘hey, that’s me’.”

There was a smile in his voice, like what he knew what he was saying was stupid. Instead of explaining that he didn't get to make the mixes, however he just barely suppressed a smile. 

“I’ll try my best.”   
They continued smoking, passing back and forth. Yamaguchi tried teaching him how to blow rings, but Kei was more invested in twirling the smoke in the air. Morphing rings into flowing spirals was easier, anyway. They talked about living in Tokyo; how much the traffic sucked, how expensive rent was, music genres they liked, how summer break was so exciting as a kid. 

“‘Was pretty different in America. That’s like the  _ end  _ end of their school year, y’know?” Kei watched him, his head tilted up against the wall starting up at the top of the bridge. “Summer vacation!” He exclaimed in a corny American accent. 

Kei didn’t realise he was high until laughing at that, finding it much funnier than he normally would. His laugh made Yamaguchi smile. “You’re such a lightweight, Tsukki.”   
_There it was._

_ The nickname.  _

For that one moment, he regretted ever thinking he wanted to ghost him.    
  


Both were so tired from the sun by the time they left, instead taking the bus back to the nearest stop home. They were sitting close enough to the point where Kei felt like he couldn’t breath. If the bus turned, their knees would touch slightly. If there was a bump in the road, their shoulders would touch for the slightest moment. Yamaguchi had his eyes focused on outside of the window but his hands would move slightly on each end of his seat. This probably wasn’t anything. Kei hated how this made him feel. This wasn’t anything. 

A chill went down his spine. 

Yamaguchi’s pinky was ever so gently tracing up and down on Kei’s exposed knee. 

He stared down at his hand, and then at Yamaguchi next to him, no longer looking out the window. 

_ Oh.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> acid jazz is so fun i love music. sorry okay so i literally dont know if it's like this for anyone else but whenever i get drunk my lips go numb. that's like the #1 way ik im feeling it but i never hear anyone else talk about that. i was drinking white wine like 2 nights ago and i forgot i fucking hate white wine so ha sorry i wont give it credit for anything asides from looking like piss and tasting awful   
> anyway so hi ty for reading. make sure you're washing your hands, staying inside, and staying healthy. stay safe, guys. and stay inside to keep others safe.   
> cyaa^^
> 
> (also i literally don't know if ive made this clear at all but hinata works at what's basically like buzzfeed. i keep trynna say it without saying buzzfeed and i have no way to know it that's clear or not lmaoooo)


	8. pull the plug already // mutual trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: mention of an overdose in this one  
> i feel like that's obvious with the whole shithole this fic is but im just gonna say it anyway

“Look, I’m sorry-”   
The door slammed in Kei’s face, his shirt still hanging in his hand. Admittedly, that could’ve gone a little better than expected. In the middle of the apartment complex hall, he stood there unsure of what the next move was. 

_ Well, first the shirt I guess.  _

Pulling the rugby shirt over his head gave him time to rethink what the past hour had been and how it had gone downhill so fast. These situations just kept coming over and over again with no warning out of nowhere. Things were fine. Things had been fine for, like, three years! Now, he just kept messing up. 

Two hours ago, he responded to Yachi’s text. He thought they should have some sort of closure. One hour ago things did not seem to be looking that way at her apartment. She didn’t take much time to get busy with him, the two on her loveseat. Or rather, her on top of his lap on the loveseat. His hands stayed on the top sides of her thighs until she would move his hands up to her chest. Yachi had pulled off his shirt not much earlier. With her tongue in his mouth, Kei could still taste pineapple juice. 

_ Ah.  _

Yachi would gently gyrate her hips on top of his lap before unbuttoning his shorts and reaching inside with one hand. Even with her hand around him, exhibiting how well she knew how to move her wrist. It didn’t take long for her to pull away. 

“You okay?” She asked in a high, breathy pitch. 

Despite her efforts, nothing magical was happening down south. Unsure of what to say, Kei’s brain short circuited. “I- I, uh,” this was going to sound bad. “I don’t think we should do this anymore.” 

Her hand completely left him now. “What?”   
_This was going to sound so bad._ “I just don’t think I can see myself with you.”   
_Oh my god, you said it like THAT?_ _  
_ Slowly, Yachi got up from on top of him. “And you couldn’t say that before I tried giving you a hand job?”   
“I didn’t think it through.” 

“Obviously not.”   
“I didn’t think it would escalate to that.”   
Her eyes glazed over with a disappointed stare. “You sure don’t think a lot.”   
Kei rebuttoned his pants, standing up. “Can I at least explain myself? Or are you gonna bitch about that too.”   
_Oh, oh, oh, OH that was the WORST thing you could’ve said._

From the way her eyebrows shot up, Yachi was clearly thinking the same thing. “Oh my god. Get out. L-like,  _ now _ .” 

She threw the shirt at him when he opened the door, following to put her hand on the inside handle. Kei knew he had fucked up. Turning around with a sigh, he thought he’d try again. 

“ _ Look, I’m sorry- _ ”    
  


“And then she slammed the door in my face, yeah,” Kei explained, leaning on the counter on Tanaka’s kitchen. 

“Jeeeesus, dude,” said friend handed him a handful of sparkling waters to bring to the group. “That’s on you. Imagine not knowing how to talk to girls.”   
“Probably getting more action than you, still,” he mumbled, taking the bottles and waiting for him to head back to the living room. 

Tanaka bopped him on the head with his free hand, holding two bags of chips in the other. “I am a master with the ladies, fuck you.”   
“Uh-huh.” 

The living room had 3 mismatched couches, all old-looking and out of place. They all faced each other in an incomplete square with a single armchair in the emptier space. A very cluttered coffee table sat in the centre, currently residing on top a pair of bright purple hightops belonging to none other than…

“Nishinoya?” Kei questioned out loud, a little more than surprised to see his co-worker in his circle of friends he had known for a very long time. A very long time that did not include him. Ever. 

Although fairly surprised, he didn’t seem as shocked to see the two in the same place outside of work again. 

“Four-eyes! Good to see you!” Nishinoya gave a thumbs up, turning back to carry on whatever conversation they were having before. 

“When did he even get here?” Kei muttered, taking a seat regretfully next to Kageyama on the couch. 

Taking the water bottle he was handed the man next to him shrugged. “Dunno. One of Tanaka’s friends. He said he’d supply tonight.” 

He hummed in response, not knowing how to feel. He’d expected drugs with the Black Jackals last week. He’d sort of expected drugs this weekend. Kei felt in the bottom of his stomach that something was off with him. Everything he’d been doing was unlike him, even Suga was quick to point it out. 

“ _ Man, so Friday and Saturday off? Tsukishima, if you want me to hire an extra man so you have time off just tell me. You can always take back your ‘work-all-the-time’ act.”  _ _  
  
_

Part of him was considering it. Over the past year and a half, Kei had built up a lot of savings from working every single day. There wasn’t an abundance of DJs on the market that wanted to ruin their sleep schedules, so he hadn’t had much competition. If he was planning on keeping up this “getting out of the hole” plan, weekends couldn’t always be full of work. 

“Alright, fellas,” Nishinoya opened a small pack of gum, taking out small slips of paper that were definitely not gum, “I have a good batch this time. I  _ promise _ .” 

_So he’s a plug, then. The more you know_.   
Several things began to go through his head. The pit in his stomach grew larger. Unidentifiable became more clear. One of the papers was handed to him. Hesitantly, he unfolded it in half. 

A little translucent square with the character for ‘moon’ printed on top sat right there in the centre. 

Kageyama elbowed him gently. He glanced over, seeing him holding the paper the same way. He was quick to place the square on his tongue, yet shook his head slightly. 

“You can say no if you want,” he said just as slight as the head shake, as if to not let anyone else think about what they had handed him. 

_ Why’s he the one that’s concerned? Why him?  _

_ He’s right.  _

_ He’srighthe’srighthe’sright.  _

_ Shut up. _

The million thoughts buzzing through his skull came to a quick stop. “It’s fine,” he shrugged instead, placing the square of LSD on his tongue. In an instant, he felt both relieved and completely out of control. 

“ _ Akaaaaashi,” he called out, head resting upon his arms. Kei was stretched out across the therapist-style couch in his friend’s dorm room.  _

_ He looked up from the bassline he was tinkering with. “Yeah?”  _

_ “When’s the next time we can, like, get high again?”  _

_Akaashi gave a huff of a laugh, plucking the strings off his bass. “What, like we did Saturday? I mean I can ask my dealer if he has a new supply.”_ _  
_ _“We can’t, like, now?”_

_ Raising an eyebrow, he stopped plucking for a moment. “Patience, young grasshopper. What’s the rush?”  _

_Kei shrugged. “That was the best I’ve ever felt. It was so different from smoking up or drinking.”_ _  
_ _“You wanna try acid instead?”_ _  
_ _“I have, stupid. When I met you guys I was on acid.”_

_ “Not this kind.”  _ _  
  
_

As soon as it dissolved on his tongue, Kei regretted his decision. That was a really, really, really,  _ really,  _ poor decision. This was the one reason why he’d been sober for years on end afterwards. The one promise he had with himself broken in an instant. 

Instead of showing this internal breakdown, he instead took a sip from his bottle, the sting of carbonated nothingness on his tongue. Hinata’s eyes shone whilst talking to Nishinoya, like he’d found his counterpart. Tanaka laughed with them, slapping the two on the back. Some of Tanaka's other friends, like a guy named Ennoshita that Kei could sort of remember from university, continued on with their own conversations. Everyone blissfully unaware of everything swimming around Kei.

_ How narcissistic.  _

“What is?”   
Everyone but one. 

Furrowing his brows, he gazed over at Kageyama. He leaned his head against his hand, an arm resting on the edge of the couch. “Hm?”   
“You said something was narcissistic.”   
“Oh. It’s nothing.” 

“Ohhkay.”   
They had a stare off, their annoyed brows matching; the parallel of the loud buzz of life against the two that so avoided it. 

_ He skipped six classes in two weeks. Six classes. Around fifteen hours spent horsing around in a storage unit where the band practiced. There were empty whiskey bottles, a heavy stench of weed, and a constant angry sound of clashing music. Sometimes he’d play Bokuto’s guitar, sometimes he’d scream into the mics with the others, and sometimes Kei would just sit in the corner and appreciate the fuck-up of music.  _

_ Sundays had become fun again. Here he was, tripping his ass off for the fourth time this week, measuring his hand against Kuroo’s as his friends talked about plans for after school.  _

_ Or rather, now.  _

_“I really don’t wanna do another term, y’know?” Kuroo said, unminding as Kei couldn’t yet determine who’s was bigger. “I already took one gap year. Would be kinda pointless to do it again and then waste more money for another year of school.”_ _  
_ _“I’ll finish school when I’m old and boring,” blowing a stream of smoke at Akaashi, Bokuto leaned further back in the cheap IKEA chair. “Right now I just wanna focus on us.”_ _  
_ _“Yeah, right, you’ll go back to school,” Akaashi rolled his eyes, taking the blunt from his hands and inhaling himself._

_ Kuroo glanced down at Kei. His glasses were off. They made everything move in the opposite direction at the same time; it was too confusing. His fingers reached up and over, coming back down. Going from large to small. Huge to large. Large to small. Was his hand bigger? There was no possible way to tell.  _

_ “You wanna join us, Kei?”  _

_ Kei.  _

_“Give me a week to think about it.”_ _  
_ _The answer never came._

Kageyama and Tsukishima were sailing on the couch. Well, not really, but he felt like he was floating in water. He was laying back down on the empty end, legs across Kageyama’s lap and hanging over the armrest. Neither of them were really speaking. 

“Tsuuuukiiishiiima!” Hinata called in a sing-song voice, coming from above and picking his shoulders up enough to hug from behind. “C’mon don’t be boring!”   
His hair was curling inwards, yet still managing to stick out. Kei could see his irises spinning around in circles. 

_ Oh, Jesus.  _

“I’m not being boring.”  _ When did it kick in? How long was he sitting there?  _ “I’m just relaxing.” Getting his legs off of Kageyama was easy. Sitting up was easy. Seeing the rest of the room was a fucking nightmare. 

Everything was moving. Too much. Too many spirals, wallpaper slowly crawling across the walls, the wood on the ceiling was also eternally shifting around. The clock hanging up dripped down onto the walls.  _ Someone would have to clean that up later.  _

“C’mon, play scrabble with me.” 

Unwillingly, he was pulled off the couch by one arm, led down an eternally long hallway that stopped short… back into the living room. Was his heartbeat always this loud? 

The two sat on the carpet, a half-completed scrabble game already on the board. Hinata pushed around letters, some upside down and some sideways. 

“Do you know how to spell euphonium?” He was asked. 

Kei wasn’t sure how to respond. His mouth was too full of his own tongue. 

“I don’t even fuckin’ know what a euphonium is,” Hinata giggled to himself, rolling on his back. He ran his fingers across the carpet. “God… it’s so soft. Like, gwahhh! The best kind of hug that makes your heart go all uwahhh! Y’know what I mean?”   
He nodded. “Yeah,” _he was back!_ “I don’t get those a lot.”   
“You just got one from me, dummy-shima.”   
“Save the nicknames for Kageyama.”   
“Fine, _Boring_ -shima.” 

The carpet ran over his hands, burying him just as soon as it let him go. The ticking of the clock was so fucking loud. He could smash that idiot clock if he wanted to. 

Jesus. Kei himself was the idiot clock. He’d forgotten how to handle his high. 

Sleeping it off was the greatest decision he’d ever made. Although it wasn’t a good high, it hadn’t been bad either. It just felt bizarre. He had forgotten what it was like, completely. Things should have stayed that way. 

_Things will be fine either way,_ he told himself, slowly sucking down the cold milkshake from the fast food joint they were currently at. He’d spent the night somehow in the guest bedroom along with both Nishinoya _and_ Hinata. The three of them in one bed was an unpleasant experience, crushed on either side by restless blanket-stealers. 

Breakfast was now, the six or so, sitting at one of the long tables in the corner of a mostly empty burger-joint. Briefly, he thought about how they could recreate  _ The Last Supper  _ if they really wanted to. Poor Hinata was on the verge of coming down from his high, being the last one who was really still feeling it. His head rested on the table, moaning about how good the cool plastic felt. The rest feasted on 9am burgers, groggily talking about nothing in particular. 

Under the table, Kei noticed something weird. 

Kageyama was fumbling with a small prescription bottle in his lap. No one else seemed to pay attention to this, or care at least. He unscrewed the cap, pulling out a longer, white, rectangular tablet. 

_ Oh.  _

As he discretely raised it to his mouth to dry swallow, the two made eye contact. A flash of panic ran through Kageyama’s expression, but cold nothingness took over as he pretended to lean his chin on his wrist to successfully pop the pill in his mouth. 

Kei raised an eyebrow, as if to ask, “ _Xanax? Really?”_ _  
_ “ _Shut the fuck up_ ,” is what Kageyama’s expression read back. 

What really came out of his mouth after the slow swallow was, “I’m gonna grab some more ketchup,” getting up with the slight nod of his head. 

_ Well, my fuckin’ bad.  _ “I’ll get some too,” he added, standing up as well as the two made their way to the cashiers to buy some extra. 

“Don’t mention it to anyone,” Kageyama said under his breath to Kei, giving the tired-looking cashier money for more ketchup packets. “Please.”   
_Please? That one’s new._ “What, you can trip on acid for a whole night but your morning xanax is where you draw the line for publicity?” There was a snarkiness to his tone that probably didn’t need to exist. 

The way he gripped the ketchup packets showed how that line was received. Kageyama glared at him before the look softened to something more of desperation. “I told him I got off it four months ago.” 

Him was probably Hinata, Kei guessed. “Did you lie?”   
“I couldn’t stop.”   


_ Real life was washed up. Music didn’t sound as good. The colours were so pale and sad. Everything was cold and meaningless. Real life wasn’t alive.  _

_ The one class Kei did attend began to feel like a mistake. His hands were itching for something to do other than take notes. He couldn’t sit still in his chair. Drumming on the table was the only satisfying sort of feeling. God, he hated being sober.  _

_ Everything felt so completely dead.  _

_ Head hitting the pillow of Bokuto’s bed, he finally felt at peace. He was crossed. Completely crossed. His mom called earlier, wanting to know how things were going. It was such a taxing conversation that the only thing that made sense afterwards was to be crossed.  _

_ Everyone was laughing. So hard. Everything was better this way.  _

_ Everything was  _ alive. 

_ The middle of the study party he was in was where it all went downhill. Finals this, new year that. He was tired of it. An hour ago the paper dissolved on his tongue. No one could tell. Half an hour ago, he put another paper on his tongue. Why not? What was the  _ fucking  _ harm? Ten minutes ago, he took an acetaminophen. His head had begun to hurt so bad.  _

_ Kei was walking down the hallway, outstretched arm tracing the wall as he walked. It was getting hard to breathe, he noticed. At one point he stopped, touching his chest. Almost as if he were a ghost, his hands went straight through.  _

_“Jesus.”_ _  
_ _He continued down the hallway, stopping when he reached an ajar door. It was his dorm room, of course. He, Hinata, and Kageyama always kept it open when they were out. Someone always forgot their keys. Kei got through the door what felt like four times. Walking in felt like life was lagging. Inside the dark room, he stumbled around before stopping at his open laptop._

_ “Yeah, I wanna listen to music too,” he agreed to no one. It was too hard to sign in. Too hard to breath. His lungs couldn’t hold any air. Leaning against the desk, he just tried to hold his head. Kei’s brain was going to melt out of his ears. Everything was falling apart. Nothing was alive. Everything was too alive. The dark room felt like it was a hundred miles long, the desk he leaned against raising up towards the ceiling. Kei slipped and fell, feeling his glasses snap against the floor. Everything was so far away, it felt like he was slipping down the floor into an abyss.  _

_ From far away, he could hear someone saying his name. _

_ There was no answer for Kuroo’s question at the end of the week.  _

“Couldn’t stop, huh,” he mumbled unintelligibly under his breath, briefly thinking back to that year. 

“Look, just don’t snitch, okay? I’m figuring things out for myself.” Kageyama’s desperation was growing into annoyance. 

Kei looked up to meet his eyes. “That’s your one-way ticket to fucking up.”   
“You don’t know that.”   
“You think?” 

_ Obviously Kageyama was going to be the only one who cared. Kageyama was the one who had to call the fuckin’ ambulance.  _

“Just… let’s talk about it later, okay? I don’t trust you,” he continued without letting Kageyama speak. 

His eyes narrowed at Kei, but he didn’t respond. The two went back to the table with little conflict. Kei had never cared before. Kageyama was never at the top of his concerns. The dude was a dick. They both were. Yet somehow at this moment in time, he couldn’t help but watch him. Notice every move he made. Wonder what was running through his head with every shift of his eyes. It was grossly humanising to empathise with Kageyama. 

_ Well, at least someone has to.  _

Their eyes met again, Kei turning into a glare. 

_ He should know that.  _

Kageyama did. The lack of getting a glare in return was enough to prove the point. Of course, he knew.

That’s when he decided he was done. Done with all of this shit forever. It was time to quit. 

Walking through the front door that afternoon, Kei was prepared to ignore Akiteru on the couch. His brother, seeing him, stood up and headed over to the door. 

“Hey, some guy left you a package.” He said, stopping in front of him. 

Kei raised an eyebrow. “‘Some guy’? What did he leave, a bomb?”   
“A guy with, like, blue hair. Spikey, too. He looked like he came off the set of an old Green Day music video.”

 _Shit._ “Yeah?” He cleared his throat. “What was in it?”   
Akiteru looked at him weird. “I don’t go through your mail. That’s fraud or whatever. I just put it in your room.” 

Once again, that morbid curiosity took over his body. With no reply to his brother, Kei darted in the direction of the room. 

“At least warn me if it’s a bomb!” Akiteru called out before he slammed the door, eyeing the small package on his bed. It wasn’t really in a conventional box shape and was wrapped in brown paper. Honestly, it _could’ve_ been a bomb.   
He was quick to tear off the paper, finding one of those large envelopes filled with something. A note was taped to it. 

_ Akaashi told me to send this. Your “favourite” as an apology for hitting the road back then without you. See you at the concert! -Bokuto  _

His head was telling him to wait, but his hands could care less. It took a few tries to peel the masking tape that kept the envelope shut, but the second he got it, that bag was opened faster than a child’s first Christmas gift. 

A part of him had already known what it was the second he read that note. Even so, consternation pumped through his veins. Every part of his body felt on edge.

Inside the envelope were probably five ziploc bags filled with LSD-laced shrooms. 

A knock came on his door a millisecond before his brother came back in. 

“So? What was it?” 

He was quick to shut the bag, practically jumping. “It's -uh, it’s nothing.”   
“Nothing?”   
“Nothing.”   
“Uh-huh.”   
“Can you go?”   
Something was wrong. It was easy to feel it in the air, but Akiteru wasn’t going to push it. He could see in his eyes the conflict. _Was he going to hold on or let go._

“I mean, okay,” he began stepping out, hand on the doorknob. “Not everyday we get a mystery package from a stranger though.”   
_He let go._

Kei’s eyes trailed back to the bag, reopening it. Five full bags of his downfall. 

Despite his every cell telling him to throw it in a garbage compactor, he couldn’t let go. He couldn’t let go. 

_ This was bad.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is only half of this whole story and i think im gonna publish the first chapter of side b before the last chapter of this. just so you have my word that the end isn't the definite end and no one fucking shanks me or something  
> so anyway. due to quarantine this is my like, second week sober lmao. shit got me wanting to change the ending but i can't betray my extensive outline.  
> okayokay speaking of: wash your FUCKING hands and ACTUALLY social distance for the sake of those in worse conditions. take care of yourselves please. stay healthy  
> also ty for reading  
> i'll cya^^


	9. ultimatum for breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a REALLY long chapter im so sorry

The envelope would sit untouched and hidden in the back of Kei’s closet. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Ever since he’d opened one of the ziploc bags, just to smell, he couldn’t be a man of his word. Out of sight meant jack shit. It was constantly on his mind. 

After queuing up a couple more songs, he leaned back in the rolling chair and stared up at the ceiling. A syncopated beat played through his headphones as he tossed up an old tennis ball repeatedly. He’d toss and catch, all with the same hand. Toss and catch, toss and catch, toss and catch. Thoughts of the ziploc bags danced circles around his head. 

Okay. 

He wasn’t daft. Of course, it would be tempting. Of course, he’d be thinking about it all day. It wasn’t like he would ever act on it, no matter how much his hands itched to do so. 

_ Key signature changed from major to minor.  _

The more he thought, his mouth would water. 

Okay. 

Sitting up, Kei glances over at one of the drawers of the desk. He had never thought much of it before, but now knowing of its contents, his mouth watered a bit more. His hands itched. Just something to make the night easier. It took approximately thirty seconds before finding the “hidden key” (taped underneath the desk), making Kei huff out a laugh. There was one song left before he had to talk. That was plenty of time. Exactly three minutes. 

Unlocking the drawer revealed a very cheap bottle of vodka, and an equally looking cheap bottle of whiskey. The boxes of rolling papers weren’t as tempting. He had nothing to smoke, but he  _ did  _ have an empty travel mug. 

As soon as he reached for the vodka, confliction grew in his stomach. Not one week ago, he had just told himself he would never be so stupid as to drink at work. This was a sacred place in the confusion storm that was his life. Was he really willing to break those values he previously held?  
_If Nishinoya can do it and hold his job, you can too._

With an exhale, he just grabbed the bottle and pulled it on top of his thigh. Unscrewing the cap released that cheap smell of shitty vodka, but Kei couldn’t find it in him to be pretentious. A drink was a drink. He only poured, like, two shots into his mug before putting everything away and putting the key back where it normally resided. 

Sipping slowly was not fucking ideal. Not at all. However, it proved itself to be rather difficult to take shots the conventional way from his big ass mug. He admittedly winced a little at the hard swallow at the end, but no one was here to poke fun. Four seconds ‘til he’s on. 

Kei rolled his head around his neck, not even cracking it before clearing his throat and pressing the button. 

“Gooood evening, Tokyo!” Sometimes it felt like the same thing every night. He didn’t hate this, did he? God, of course he didn’t. “Although I doubt most of us are outside trying to tan anyway, I’d warn you against it. Thunderous showers are breaking the near-drought that July has left us in tonight, so be aware!” Weather this, political news that. No one listening at 3am wanted to hear about the Prime Minister. “Although announced several times throughout the day, we once again are going to call out the lucky lottery number for the free Black Jackals tickets. You ready, nightowls? It could be you.” Kei glanced down at the tab with the randomized number from everyone who signed up. “Double-Oh-Seven!” He sounded out in English, thinking of that corny American accent Yamaguchi could do. “You hear that, Bond? 007 is our lucky number, and you’re the lucky guy who can go to the concert tomorrow. Just make sure you stop by the station to pick up your ticket before the show’s admissions.”   
Hinata’s group was going. They bought tickets the second the concert was announced. Kei didn’t mention his freebie in. His two friend groups never interacted that one year in university, nor would they even recognize the band now if they _had_ seen them. Instead, it felt easier to say working at the station got him a free ticket, no matter how little-sense that made. 

He continued to speak for a few more minutes, making sure to get the script done this time. A feeling of warmth spread in his stomach as he switched off the recording and instead began the cue for commercials. Now, it was understandable how his co-workers did this more often. It was relaxing as all hell. Part of him wants another shot, but there’s no way he’s going to get even more than buzzed. Once again, Kei isn’t an idiot. 

A text lit up his phone, then a phone call. One of the newly added numbers to his limited contacts, he noticed. The warmth in his stomach got a little more fiery. 

“Hello?”   
“ _Oh shit, you can actually pick up at work?_ ” Yamaguchi’s voice, although a little fuzzy from the phone, was still nice to hear. “ _I was just going to leave a voicemail._ ” 

“You realise that texting is the same thing, but easier.”   
“ _Nah, it’s easier to just talk._ ”   
“Then what did you want to say?”   
Kei’s heartbeat thud dully in his chest. His mind flew back to that afternoon on the bus. 

“ _ Hmmm, _ ” Yamaguchi hummed on the other end. “ _ Well, I was trying to fish my flashlight I dropped from the inside of the hood of a car when your little radio break came on. Then I got distracted thinking about you and I was going to say we should talk again sometime. _ ” 

So they had definitely passed onto this stage. He swallowed, looking at how much time was left on commercials. He could be bold too. “Well, we’re talking now.”   
“ _Hardly counts._ _You’re at work, and probably shouldn’t be on the phone._ ”   
Finding himself raking his hand through his hair, Kei stopped. Wasn’t that supposed to cause baldness or something? _Didn’t even matter_. His hair really _was_ too long. “Commercial break. Then after that I cue the transition for music and put on the playlist again. Shouldn’t you, like, _not_ be working? Go home; get some sleep.” As he said this he glanced over at the clock on the computer. Jesus, it was already getting closer to 4am. 

“ _ If I was at home sleeping, I’d miss your show, dumbass. _ ” 

The hit landed. If he had planned that out, good for him. Hit in the centre of the target. “It is one-hundred percent not worth it to hear me talk about the weather this early in the morning.”   
“ _Less about the weather, more about just hearing you talk._ ” The smile on his face was audible from the way he spoke.  
_Oh my GOD._ “Okay, I give up. How are you so good at this?” Kei drummed on the desk, a watchful eye on his timing. He’d have to cue the music soon. 

Yamaguchi laughed on the other line. “ _Sorry,_ -” _don’t APOLOGISE “-I just can’t help it._ ”   
_What_ , can’t help flirting with him or with _everyone_? The bus drove back into his memory. How a simple movement of his pinkie snaked into his hand curved around Kei’s thigh. How after he gave him the nonverbal okay, the two wouldn’t even look each other in the eye like this was middle school. 

“Don’t worry, it’s definitely okay.” 

There was a short pause on the call. Kei’s eyes shifted to the computer screen, his cursor hovered over the button to switch to music.  _ Three…two…one.  _ He was off work in about fifty minutes. Just under an hour. 

“ _ What are you doing after work? _ ” 

“Sleeping. You probably should too.” _Oh, ouch._ He was the one that said it, yet for some reason felt a small sting. That sounded kind of mean, didn’t it?   
“ _Fair.”_ Kei could imagine him leaning against the car he was supposed to be working on. “ _How about I let you go and we… maybe hang later? After we’re both re-animated from sleep, of course.”_

Picturing him was a drug within itself. “Yeah, yeah that sounds good. Later.”   
_“Laterz, then._ ”   
That made him almost let out a laugh. “Laterz.”   


He’d sacrificed an extra hour of sleep in the early afternoon that Kei  _ knew  _ was going to hit hard tonight, but there wasn’t much conflict at the moment. 

“Ohhh my god, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi leaned over to gaze in one of the stands, “look how enormous the bonitos are!” 

It was for sure the first time he’d gone on a possible date to a fish market. As abnormal as it felt, it was kind of cute to see someone so geeked over fairly menial things. Yamaguchi was engaged in a conversation with the seller at the stand, overly knowledgeable about fishing seasons and such. Kei thought that he’d gone fishing maybe once or twice in his life; it really wasn’t that exciting.  _ The fish were definitely huge though.  _

“Hey, I think that guy over there is doing sashimi samples. Wanna check it out?” He tugged softly on Kei’s sleeve, bringing him back to reality. 

_ How was it fair that someone with unremarkable features could still be so pretty?  _ “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds cool.” In retrospect, it wasn’t really. Sashimi was sashimi. Yamaguchi  _ and _ sashimi were different, however. 

Unlike countless other people who learned the hard way, their dynamic worked with ease. Yamaguchi talked, Kei would listen and occasionally chime in, and neither of them felt bad about it. It was nice to hear him talk, even if it was generally about nothing in particular. 

“Do you always take people to fish markets?” Kei asked, the two cheers-ing small samples of sashimi on toothpicks. 

He got a smile in return. “Usually I’d reserve it for the third date. You can get a fast-pass, though.” 

Kei slipped the sashimi in his mouth, lips upturned into a smile. Despite a chill exterior, however, everything inside had turned into complete chaos. 

_DATE? SO THIS_ IS _A DATE?_ _  
_ _WAS THAT A JOKE?_

_ OKAY, SO WE’RE CALLING IT A DATE.  _

_ Wait- this sashimi is actually really good.  _

_ BUT HE CALLED IT A FUC-KING DATE!  _

“Glad to have made the cut.” He playfully pushed his arm, forgetting about the rest of the things that had been stirring up the calm that had previously been his life. There was no itch in his fingers, no worry about the band. This was like the something else he had wanted when he realised things could be better than satisfactory. Yamaguchi with his dumb graphic t-shirt and overgrown roots and constant spout of conversation about nothing at all somehow made things seem worth it. 

As the two sat outside a cafe (it would’ve been preferable to be inside with the air-conditioning, but it seemed that everyone else who had the same idea got there before them), he listened to Yamaguchi talk about how he accidentally shred his tax prepayment documents and had an exquisitely horrible phone call with one of the workers who called him a “right moron”. 

“I feel like working for taxpayers just was building up and then I’m the one idiot that pushed him over the brink or something. I’ve never heard someone in a professional environment break character.” Yamaguchi sighed out, taking a sip from his drink. 

“How do you even end up shredding kind of important paperwork?” What used to be a slice of strawberry shortcake on his plate had been reduced to naught. 

“I- well, I mean sometimes you get stacked up on… receipts of sorts?”   
“Do dealers hand out receipts now?”   
Yamaguchi raised an eyebrow. “Very bold assumption.” He stirred the drink with the straw. “But… yeah. You could say that.”   
“You’d think illegal activities would be less obvious.”   
“You seem very judgemental about things outside the legal limit.”   
“Perhaps because it’s outside legality.” 

“You say that but…” He smiled in an amused manner, “I had distinct memories of you crossed out of your mind only a few weeks ago.” 

_ But never again. It’s not happening. I’m done.  _ “It was like a one-time thing. I’m a prime example of a law abiding citizen now.” 

“How boring.”   
“I think you mean, ‘responsible’.”   
“Even worse.”   
  


Kei felt that he could trust Yamaguchi. Whether that was a logical segway to passing on his envelope to him to keep it away or not was another subject. The digital clock on his car read that it was a quarter past nine. Fifteen minutes until he needed to find his way to the back of the venue and into the dressing rooms like Kuroo had texted him. Fucking idiot with his scuffed sneakers, Kei hated him. 

_ No he didn’t.  _

The envelope sat in the back of his car. It felt more like a timebomb than a pound of illicit drugs. He could not fathom how Akaashi had managed to buy so much, and then  _ hand it off _ . By itself, the whole envelope would have probably cost around three hundred thousand yen. Three hundred  _ thousand  _ yen, and for what, to give it away? Part of the next mentioned bringing one of the ziploc bags with him. That was fair considering the three hundred thousa- 

Whatever. 

It was whatever. 

Sitting in his parked car in the crowded parking lot, Kei tried to think about anything else. He’d forcibly turned the radio off ten minutes into the drive ( _ too loud _ ). All of his CD’s he’d listened to a million times ( _ too annoying _ ). He could picture his brother right now, opening the two doors in the passenger seats to see the envelope. Ripping it open to discover a pound of LSD-laced shrooms. He could imagine how his face would go through four distinct emotions:  _ confusion, anger, sadness, and disappointment _ . All in that order. The same emotions he went through after discovering his brother lied about having a job and was instead gambling money away for what was almost a year. He and Akiteru weren’t so different, after all. 

Ten minutes. Ten minutes until he had to go to the dressing rooms. Five hours ago he was saying his goodbyes to Yamaguchi. Five hours, ten minutes, what was the difference? Both felt simultaneously like forever and a split second. Ten minutes to rethink everything. Sobriety, his career, his friends, everything. 

Bokuto’s offer came to mind. He could do what he’s always dreamt of since high school and help produce music with three of the most entertaining people on earth. Akiteru could finally have a place of his own without having to worry about him; get married, have kids, be the favourite child. Kei would lose his current concerns. No more radio station, no more friends, no more Yamaguchi.  _ God,  _ the two weren’t even super close, but how would he tell him? Falling off the face of the earth came to mind, that would be the easier decision. Rather than saying goodbye. Kei hated goodbyes. The whole thing felt like an ultimatum. Leave everything behind, or regret it for the rest of your life. 

Someone was sending multiple texts to him at once, lighting up his phone screen in the dark car. 

**Hinata:** where are you !! we got hella good seats !!

**Hinata:** please text me when you’re hereee, admissions will close soon if you don’t bust your but to get inside >:( 

At the end was a selfie of the group, Hinata’s eyes and up on the bottom with Kageyama and Tanaka both flipping the bird to look scary. Nishinoya was there as well, jumping up high in the background to be seen. 

Kei sighed and shut off his phone, reaching to the back of the car to grab the envelope. Shutting his eyes angrily, he ripped the envelope back open and blindly grabbed one of the ziploc bags. It was for them, not him. Them, not him. He had to say no. His eyes opened, looking down at the bag in his hand. The small mushrooms felt soft beneath the plastic. They looked so good, not too old or dry. His hand twitched. It was for them. Strictly them. After this, he’d get rid of them. He shut the bag in his glove box, leaving the car with certain uncertainty. 

“ _ Hello? _ ” 

“I’m outside the door.”   
Waiting for not even a second, Kei watched with the phone still up to his ear as the back door of the venue’s dressing rooms swung open. Bokuto grinned, slapping him on the shoulder a little too hard as he ended the call and shoved his phone into his back pocket. 

“Glad you could make it! You can go find your homies, or whoever, in the crowd later, but c’mon!” He dragged Kei by the arm down a short hallway before leading him into their own room. It looked like they do in movies, dirty mirrors with pictures of bands and singers, signatures all over the walls, the rest of the band either lounging around or getting ready. Akaashi seemed to be gently putting eyeliner on Kuroo, who patiently waited. 

“Sick,” Kei said, gingerly tracing his fingers along the walls, looking for names he could recognize. 

“For sure,” Akaashi stepped back to admire his work before turning to him. “You bring it?”   
His throat felt like it was lined with dry cotton. Kei nodded and pulled it out from inside his jean jacket, handing it towards him. It was their thing, it had been their thing since Akaashi introduced him to crossing hallucinogens. He got a soft smile in return, the man taking the bag. He looked so dark tonight, dark eyeliner, dark stars drawn next to the corners of his eyes, a dark tank top. With his arms exposed, Kei could see the numerous little tattoos. Akaashi had always been labeled as the pretty one in the band, yet somehow looked incredibly badass in his stage-wear. 

“Is it really smart to do that before a performance like this? Isn’t it sorta, like, a big deal?” He asked, watching him open the ziploc bag with brightly coloured nails, the only thing colourful about his look. 

Kuroo rolled his head around, cracking his neck. “He doesn't like to play sober. Takes the edge off.” 

“It’s my muse,” he places a few of the mushrooms onto a scale, taking one or two off. “My inspiration.”   
In less than a second, Bokuto turned around to gawk at him. “I thought _I_ was your muse!”   
“I’ve never said that.”   
“You’re replacing me!”   
“I have never once said you were my muse.”   
The two lightly bickered, Bokuto warning him not to eat them. Akaashi egged him on, slowly raising them to his mouth, a playful look in his eyes. He was quickly jumped, the two crashing onto the couch, continuing to play-argue. 

“I never play under anything,” Kuroo shrugged, “throws off my rhythm.”   
The two leaned against the low vanity tables, watching Akaashi struggle to get out from underneath their other friend. Bokuto cried out in defeat as he still managed to shove them in his mouth, laughing about his “muse”. It was a little weird to see him break character from his usual serious demeanor. 

“What if he has a bad trip?” Kei asked, crossing his arms. “That would ruin an entire show.”   
“He doesn’t have ‘em.”   
“Bad trips? That’s impossible. Everyone does at some point.”   
The other man looked over at him. Kei didn’t look back. “He just doesn’t”   
Gasping for air as he came up from Bokuto’s grasp, Askaashi pointed over to the scale. “I only take an eighth of an ounce. Never enough to go fully batshit. Split the other half with Bokuto. Ounce and a half each.”   
Kuroo bumped him slightly with his shoulder. “It’d be fun. Music like ours goes crazy when you’re on it.” 

_ I know.  _

Part of this felt like peer pressure, but he knew they meant well. Maybe.  _ Fuck,  _ maybe it really was just peer pressure and nothing more. 

“I haven’t done that stuff in years,” he admitted, not mentioning the past two times he’d done drugs with his friends. 

“C’monnnn,” Bokuto whined, his hair almost deflating with his mood, “Akaashi and I planned this for you for like a month. We wanted things to go back to normal, Tsuks-babe.”   
Three hundred thousand yen. Here he was, years later, still getting their stuff for free. This was ridiculous. 

Kei exhaled hard out of his mouth, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. Then I’m going out to find my other friends that don’t pressure me.”  _ Total lie.  _

Splitting it wasn’t hard. Bokuto left the math to Kei, even if it was just weighing them on a scale. Just enough to be over a buzz, but not a total trip. He’d be fine. The taste was just as he’d remembered it to be, both a pleasant and uncomfortable memory to be running through his head. The worst part was that he’d missed this. The group, the peer pressure, the trouble they got into. It was everything to him back then. 

“Break a leg.” Readjusting his jacket, Kei gave them one last nod. One last up-close-and-personal look. Kuroo got up, giving him a half hug, squeezing a little too tight to be friendly. Glancing down he could see that even for a performance, he was wearing his fucked up sneakers. “Don’t embarrass me,” he said as he was let go. 

“We would never,” Bokutoo winked, throwing an arm around Kuroo. “I’ll find you in the crowd, m’kay?”   
“Alright.”   
With that, he shut the door. The decision was made in his head. He didn’t even have to watch them perform to know. He really did hate goodbyes. 

“Holy shit, this is insane!” Hinata’s eyes were wide open. He’d just gotten down from Kageyama’s shoulders after the three opening songs. The seats they had did end up being pretty good. On both sides of the venue were balconies of sorts, and theirs were very close to the stage. If for some godforsaken reason the floor collapsed, they’d probably be  _ on  _ the stage. 

The shrooms had kicked in maybe twenty minutes ago. It was the same kind that Akaashi introduced to him when they were alone. A kind that made you feel incredibly good, better than you’d ever feel again. Mesmerized by the show, he had hardly been able to take his eyes away. Their energy was unmatched to other concerts he’d been to in the past. Unmatched to how they were in college. Every song Bokuto sang into the mic hit deep inside his chest, like his vocals were part of him. The beat of Kuroo’s drumkit replaced his own heartbeat, Akaashi’s bass in his blood. He could tell from the lyrics that it was Kuroo’s. Enclosed rhyme scheme. Bokuto liked easy ballade rhymes, Akaashi was always experimenting with new rhyme schemes, occasionally not rhyming at all. One of the shortest songs on the album was literally a sonnet, from the rhyme scheme to the title ( _ Sonnet for Our Slumber _ ). Only a nerd like him would do that, and  _ produce  _ it. 

Reaching the climax of the song, Bokuto furiously strum on his guitar, practically screaming the rest of the lyrics. This song was an angry one. Kei wondered what Kuroo had to be so upset about. He leaned on the railing, watching the music come to an end before the crowd cheered back support and praise. Bokuto paused, looking exhausted for a moment before looking around once again. He’d done this after every song, certainly looking for Kei. It made him look a bit dopey and lost, but it still felt a little flattering. 

He chose the right area this time, looking up and gazing around before locking eyes. His lost expression turned into that million-dollar smile, waving over. Kei waved back, unable to suppress a smile. 

Bokuto turned back to the crowd, smile still plastered on his face. “Hey, hey hey! Hope everyone is doing alright tonight!” Eyes shifted back up towards the balcony. “This next song is of course for everyone, but I just wanna dedicate it to-”   
_Oh Christ-_

“-one of our unofficial founding members, the very dude who got us on our feet. Tsukishima Kei! Love you, buddy!”   
The song had started and Hinata was tugging on his sleeve screaming. “You know them? Holy shit, Tsukishima, _what_! They said your name! It’s you, right?”   
Tanaka and Nishinoya were doing something similar, but Kageyama stood behind Hinata screaming at him, quiet. His facial expression was unreadable, but leaned towards disapproval. They had never done LSD in college as a group, but he had to get it from somewhere. Kageyama had caught on. 

“Get off me, it’s not a big deal,” Kei shrugged him off and ignored them yelling that it  _ was  _ a big deal. 

“His” song was the most popular from the album, the kind that gets played on radios. He would know, he’s had to play it several times since the album was released. A song about a back-and-forth relationship filled with fighting but always going back. Made no sense for that one to be dedicated to him. No matter, it was a good song. Probably Bokuto’s, the rhymes were plenty and easy in this. 

It was mesmerising to watch them. Their chemistry looked unrehearsed, yet worked perfectly. Akaashi loved to do little twirls or jumps, focusing more on the song than the crowd. Kei could only think about how he was high. He was always high. Kuroo gave every song his all, yet never tired out. Drumming was no easy business, he’d tried teaching Kei back in the day but it was difficult to keep rhythm perfectly. Bokuto was of course the star of the show. His high-energy performances were what made him so likeable. He danced, sang, and played with such ease. Sometimes, he’d even cry during “emotional” songs, or whatever. 

He couldn’t help but want to be a part of it. Every bone in his body wanted to. Because of that, he had to be sure of his decision. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go buy a water,” he told Tanaka. The other man nodded, not paying much attention. That was good. 

Kei hadn’t lied. He did go buy a water, but the second after, he left the venue. Walking out to his car, he couldn’t help but feel the calm of nighttime overwhelm him. His ears hurt a little from the loud concert, and even outside you could hear it. Every part of him was sweaty. Sooner or later, he’d come down off his high. He desperately didn’t want that. Very calm and collectedly, he got into his car and sat in the front seat. Kei gently exhaled, closing his eyes, and screamed. 

It lasted too long, enough to make his throat feel incredibly strained. Despite the discomfort, he felt alive. Was he sober enough to drive? Not really. Did that stop him? No. He started the car, driving to the only place he thought made sense to go to high. 

Unsurprisingly, the garage of the mechanic shop had a light on. The front doors were locked, but the open half of the workshop had the angelic glow of yellow industrial lights. Getting out of his car’s awful parking lot he made his way inside, envelope in hand. A man with the ever-so familiar green ponytail was bent over the hood of a car, singing along to a hand-held radio on the floor next to him. 

“Yamaguchi?” He called out, feeling unable to step inside. Maybe he really was a vampire. Not allowed in unless invited. 

Obviously surprised, Yamaguchi spun around. “Tsukki? What’re you doing?” He gestured to the garage, “Like, here?” 

“I… was coming from a concert, and I wanted to ask you a favour.” Kei stepped inside, holding out the envelope towards him. 

With a suspicious look on his face, Yamaguchi stepped over and took it from his hands. Upon opening it, his brows shot up to his hairline. “Dude. This is-” with bulging eyes, he stared up at him in disbelief, “Do you realise how much this is worth? How did you- Why do you- How?”   
“A friend gave it to me. I can’t keep it.” 

He passed it back, almost acting like touching the envelope would disease him. “Tsukki, I can’t take that from you. That’s an absurd amount of…” Yamaguchi glanced around on the off-chance that someone might hear. “It’s too much. I’m sorry, I just- No, I can’t take that from you.” 

Kei moaned in defeat. “God, I don’t know what to do.”   
The two went quiet for a few seconds. 

“Why don’t you want it?” He asked. 

“Can’t get hooked again.”   
_Shouldn’t have said that, dumbass._

_ It’s the truth, he won’t care.  _

_ Everyone cares.  _

_ I know. Shut up.  _

Sympathy took over his grimace. “Look,” he sighed, “what if, what if I take, like half? Then find someone else to either sell or drop off the rest. I’m sorry I can’t take it all but I just can’t risk it.”   
He was about to be out of character. Kei was about to do a move _so_ out of his character, but the music’s echo that resided in his bloodstream rooming with the LSD was making him emotional. Taking up Yamaguchi in his arms, he hugged him. It was definitely unexpected, the other man squeaking in surprise. 

“Thank you.”   
“O-Oh, um, it’s no issue.”   
He pulled back for a moment. For the first time since they’d met, Kei wasn’t antsy. 

“Yamaguchi, can I kiss you?”    
  


_ God,  _ his head was throbbing. The concert from last night killed his eardrums completely, allowing him to wake up with the  _ worst  _ migraine in… a waiting room?  _ No,  _ wait. It was more like a teacher’s lounge, but not. Like…  _ a breakroom _ ! A breakroom.  _ Wait- why was he in a breakroom?  _

“Stupid fucking idiot fucking moron of _COURSE_ you were high, godDAMNIT!” Someone was angrily saying to themself outside, opening the door to only reveal an extremely upset looking Yamaguchi. “Why would you do that?” He asked, a bit of bite in the back of his tone. “Why wouldn’t you tell me you were high?”   
_What time was it?_ It felt too early to be yelled at. Kei sat up from the vinyl couch. “I was hardly. It just gave me a buzz.”   
“You were _high_ and you _kissed me_ and that’s fucked up.”   
“Why is it fucked up?”   
“Because it is! Sober people and… _not_ sober people don’t do that shit! It’s, like, a rule!” Yamaguchi ran a hand through his hair, scrunching up his face to emphasise his feelings. _Yeah, that was fair._

“I’m… sorry,” he started, holding out his hand as if he were trying to calm down a wild animal. “I was in my right mind, okay?”   
“Obviously not. People who pass out aren’t in their right mind.”   
“I passed out?”   
“You said you needed to sit down so I let you sit and you conked out.”   
“That’s just falling asleep.”   
“It’s the same thing!” Yamaguchi cried out, palms to his temples. “You were high and I was not! You were not in your right mind! That’s basically me taking advantage of you!”   
Kei’s eyes widened. “Woah, _wait_ , not that’s not true. Look, I remember what happened, and I don’t regret it because it’s all I wanted to do the afternoon I was with you.” It was so violently uncomfortable admitting that outloud. 

“You- _what?_ ” He turned red, the upset expression lessening into confusion. “Actually?”   
“Yeah.”   
“Oh.” 

To save his embarrassment, Kei spoke up again. “Would’ve been the most effective way to make you shut up about fish.” A small smile upturned his lips.

Yamaguchi smiled a little too. “Shut up. You liked it.” 

“Yeah, I did.”   
With a sigh, Yamaguchi collapsed onto the couch next to him. “I’ll still take half off your hand if you need it. I’ll sell it somewhere.”   
Kei nodded. “That’d be ideal, thanks.” The idea of giving it way hurt for some reason. He pulled out his phone to check the time. “You let me sleep until six?”   
“I was upset.”   
“Clearly.”   
“You should probably leave before everyone else arrives.”   
“I should.” 

“You should.”   
There was a pause in conversation. Yamaguchi’s head leaned against his shoulder. He was okay with it.   
“I’ll go with you,” he added, moving from the previous position to get back up. “Walk to my house first? To drop… stuff off?”   
“Yeah, alright.”   
  
One thing Kei wasn’t expecting was the lacing of their fingers as soon as they made it outside. With raised eyebrows, he paused. 

“No one’s looking,” Yamaguchi seemed to promise, sending a squeeze to his hand. “It’s thirty-five seconds, but we can always stretch it out.”   
“Maybe forty seconds?”   
“You wish.”   
They continued at a slow pace, Kei getting used to the feeling of someone holding his hand. Was this a thing, then? He’d let it evolve to this point. He’d taken ten steps further than he’d originally planned. Ten steps forward to this. He was happy. Honestly… it felt satisfactory. Better, even. 

Yamaguchi talked about how the other night-shift DJ was very funky and had a very different energy. “It’s like, okay so you’re like lo-fi, but this dude is like, oh my god, he’s like a sports announcer but for music.”   
They had reached his house just as someone else did. Almost instantly, Kei’s hand shot away from Yamaguchi’s. In confusion, he looked at him, and then the girl at his front gate. 

“Hitoka!” He said with a smile in his voice. 

She didn’t smile back, instead locked in a staring contest with Kei. Both were equally as shocked to see the other. “Were you two holding hands?”   
“Yeah-”   
“No.” Kei cut him off, feeling the barbed wire tighten around his throat. 

“It’s okay, it’s just my friend. She won’t judge.” 

“No, you don’t understand,” he barely gets out. 

Yachi takes a step back from them and the gate. “Tadashi, can I- um, can I talk to you for a second?”   
He’s so clearly confused, but walks over to her anyway. She whispers into his ear, and Kei can only watch the emotions play across his face. _Confusion, disbelief, sadness, and indifference_. How different from his own. 

Yamaguchi opens the envelope, taking two of the ziploc bags out and handing the package back to him. With underlying panic, Kei takes it. He knows. She knows. Everyone knows. This was exactly what he didn’t want to happen. This was  _ exactly  _ what he didn’t want to happen. 

It doesn’t take Yachi long to leave, abandoning whatever her original purpose of being there was, leaving the two alone. Unlike Yachi, however, Yamaguchi couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“I’m, um, gonna just head inside. See ya, Tsukki.” 

“Oh.” 

_ Wow. That’s all you can imagine?  _ _  
_ _ My right to words has been taken away. I deserve it.  _

With heavy embarrassment, he turns around. Thirty-five seconds to make it back to his car, right? Ten steps forward just became twenty steps back. God, Kei really hated goodbyes. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi sorry lmao this took forever cuz i get stuck on dialogue-heavy scenes and give up  
> also i wanted to plug this forever ago but i forgot cuz im a right moron. i made a playlist when i started writing this cuz im a nerd and i do stuff like that, so if you wanna hear my personal sound ideas for da story here's the link:  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5DYgv28u6zdrzXatUFMKXp?si=mHUAe5i_SpCeRyE8pBCBMg
> 
> anywayy wash your hands, stay inside, and stay healthy homies. I'll cya next time, thanks for reading :)  
> and NEVER drive under the influence or let anyone else drive under the influence or i will literally appear in your home and shred all of your socks  
> (also at some point after this im gonna have chapter 1 of side b up like i promised. ending isn't definite)


	10. walking the wire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> final track. flip to side b to continue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: overdose

Akiteru drank whiskey, Kei noticed. He hadn’t really paid attention to his brother’s vices before, despite most of their normal drinking cups being various whiskey glasses. It wasn’t like he was plotting, but ever since Suga had hired a new nightshift DJ and he had some nights off, he just found himself wanting to ask. One night as they were getting dinner (an English breakfast of anything, his brother seemed to favour breakfast foods for all meals), he watched him pull the bottle down from a cabinet. 

“Can you pour me a glass too?” Kei spoke up from the mini table just outside the kitchen. 

“You sure?” Akiteru questioned, giving him a funny look. “Not sure you’d like it.”   
“I’m not-” 

“-a kid, yeah. I know.”   
His brother got another glass, pouring in the amber-coloured liquid. Kei haphazardly took it when presented with it. Never much of a drinker he was, especially with hard liquors. Hinata was always one for the tequilas and vodka and whatever, but it was easier to sit back with Tanaka and drink beers instead. 

Dinner was quiet for a moment, the two eating in silence. Kei took a sip of the unpleasant liquid and refrained from expressing anything other than indifference. It tasted like minty piss. 

“So what, hard day?” Akiteru drank as well, a bit of a bigger sip. Kei was pretty sure he had poured himself more. “You rarely drink.” His eyes narrowed. “I hope, at least.”   
He sighed, fork digging around in eggs. It had been about a week since he last talked to anyone other than Nishinoya. And that was just a brief “good morning” or so when they traded shifts. “Not particularly,” he decided to go with, “just trying to discover why you’re in love with it.”   
“Only way I cope with living with you,” his brother smiled, “crazy bastard.”   
This week was the most they had really “hung out” in a while. Schedules never matched up before, someone was always working. It was kind of nice, he’d decided, to talk more. 

Half an hour later, the two sat on the couch. Akiteru refilled their glasses not that long ago. A small buzz emerged in his skull, but it wasn’t anything more. Kei felt comfortable leaning against the armrest, long legs taking dominance on their footrest. His brother paid attention to the boring historical documentary, only occasionally looking down to text someone on his phone. At that moment, he realised he didn’t really know anything about his brother anymore. His friends, relationships, choice in movies. As he thought about it, a text of his own dinged on his phone. 

**hinata:** t s u k i s h i m a ! do you wanna come hang with kageyama and i? 

**hinata:** not just for gettin C R A Z Y, just to hang at my place

There was a burst of pleading emojis with hearts afterwards. It was only a Wednesday. No drugs, no drinking, seeing people for the first time in a while. Was he tempted to try and connect, or was it just the buzz of whiskey talking?   
“Hey, I’m gonna head out real quick. Don’t know when I’ll be back.” Kei got up from the couch, heading over to the shoe rack near the front of the apartment.   
Akiteru didn’t look up at him. “Alright. Oh, my girlfriend is coming over tomorrow. Might not want to be there for it.”   
_Huh?_ He paused in the front hallway. “Your what?”   
“Girlfriend, Kei. It’s what normal people have when they’re trying to get married someday.” 

Walking back towards the couch, he felt a little annoyed. His brother still wouldn’t look at him. “Is that a dig at me?”   
“Mom wants grandkids eventually.”   
“Okay, well it’s my own business whether I want a girlfriend or not.”   
Somehow, that managed to be the point for Akiteru to turn around. “What, like you don’t want to get married? Or you don’t like girls?” 

_No fucking way we are having this conversation._ “Does it matter either way? Both end in no marriage. No grandkids. Mom’s eternal disappointment.”   
He blinked, face unreadable. “Mom’s not gonna be disappointed if you bring home a boy.”   
Both of them had mastered the art of the ill-defined expression, a true Tsukishima family trait. Kei was not going to have this conversation with him. Especially not right _now._ “I’m not bringing home a boy. God- just,” he went back to the shoes, slipping on a pair of slides, “just forget it.”   
“Kei. It’s alright if you’re-”   
Shutting the front door made things better. He didn’t have to hear the end of his sentence. He wasn’t gay. Or rather, he just didn’t know what he was. It would’ve been so much easier if he could have figured things out back in high school or something. He was around seventy-percent sure none of this would have happened if he just knew. 

_Whatever. It’s just whatever._

Hinata lived a little too far away to walk, but sometimes the cool summer night air just made him feel alive. Way more alive than he had relatively felt these past few weeks. The walk sobered him as well, clearing his head of the buzz. Part of him wished he’d brought his headphones. Walking for half an hour in dead silence wasn’t particularly enjoyable. It wasn’t as though he was in some cliche, edgy “dark thoughts screaming at him in the silence” scenario, but it was still annoying. All he could think about was a list of near a hundred different ways he could’ve fixed the mess he’d made with Yamaguchi. The one person he had felt like he wasn’t messing things up with, he’d messed up with. How ironic. 

He could see the lights on from outside Hinata’s apartment. Hinata lived in a nicer block of apartments and was honestly probably the most financially steady out of everyone he knew. Tanaka and Kageyama were both a little incompetent when it came to money, Kageyama more-so. A year ago, he couldn’t afford housing anymore and had to crash on Hinata’s couch for months before finding another tiny-box of an apartment to live in. Tanaka just had outrageous student debt, which he used to claim wouldn’t be an issue back when he was dealing. Times had changed, however. 

After buzzing the intercom next to his floor’s name, he stood there like a dumbass. Shoving his hands into his sweatpants pockets made him feel a little less awkward in the time that it took for a voice to crackle over the speaker.

“ _Tsukishima? You came?_ ” Very distinct Hinata voice. 

“Don’t sound so surprised.”  
Hinata buzzed him into the building and he headed for the stairs. Three annoying flights before he could actually get to the apartment. Kei never trusted elevators. Too many movies with bad scenarios, too easy to get claustrophobic, overall just not worth it. 

The door was already open when he got up to the fourth floor, Hinata’s roommate leaning against the frame on his phone. Kei wasn’t scared of Atsumu, but he sure as hell was intimidated. Once getting closer, the other man noticed him and signed “hello”. After signing “hello” back, Atsumu moved to let him inside. He was the only reason Kei knew basic sign language, and any conversation made him nervous due to not really being able to communicate past that. Hinata had learned to sign obnoxiously well and very fast since living with him over the past few years, even Astumu telling him to slow down sometimes. He couldn’t remember exactly why he was deaf at such a young age. Hinata had told them once, something about a head injury triggering something-something’s disease and he’d lost, like, ninety-percent of his hearing by high school. 

“Tsukishima!” Hinata exclaimed, waving from their small dining table. The three had been playing poker, by the looks of it, and neither Kageyema nor Hinata were doing so well. He waved back, tossing off his shoes in the main hallway as Atsumu shut the door and walked past him and signed something towards Hinata. He grinned before expressively signing back. “He says you can join the last game if you want, but he’ll drain you of your money.”   
“I’m good. Didn’t bring any cash on me anyway.” Kei took the empty seat between Kageyama and Hinata. “I’ll just spectate.” 

The last game didn’t go terribly well for his friends. Kageyama got all quiet and huffy before having to fold (his cards were _terrible_ ), muttering under his breath about how the whole thing was rigged. Hinata bet everything he had left, around a thousand yen, and watched nervously as Atsumu did the same (albeit it was only a chunk of his total winnings). When it got to the showdown, the two placed their cards on the table. Hinata looked absolutely confident, revealing a straight flush. This only lasted a few seconds, however, as Atsumu smiled and showed him the royal flush in his hand. 

Things turned to complete pandemonium, Hinata half-yelling, half-signing about him being an evil cheater, Kageyama joining in. Atsumu continued to laugh, collecting all of the money on the table and standing up, signing… goodnight? Goodbye? _Something like that._ It was amusing enough to watch the two so emotionally aggravated by the game, Hinata grumbling as he put the cards back into their box. 

“He _has_ to be a cheater. There’s literally _no way_ he’s that lucky.” Exhaling hard, he stood up, wiping the annoyed look from his face. “I’ll get him next time, for sure.”   
“You say that _every time_ ,” Kageyama deadpanned from his position of resting his head on the table.   
“Don’t say that! You’re making me look bad in front of Tsukishima!”   
“You do that by yourself!”   
“Shut up! I’m not the one that lost all my weed money to Atsumu! Kita’s gonna kick your ass.”   
“Oh, shut up. My paycheck comes on Friday.” 

“Your paycheck is, like, four-hundred yen.”   
It was amusing to watch them bicker. The two used to have _real_ fights back in uni, like, _really_ bad fights. At one point, it got physical and Kageyama ended up breaking Hinata’s laptop, thus starting the financial crisis that followed him to this day. They’d softened out now. Arguments never meant anything, if anything just being play-fighting. 

Kei paused, noticing that they had stopped to stare at him. “What?”   
“I asked if you were ready to help and you were all spacey.”   
Now he was confused. “Help with what? Did you trick me into coming here to do work?” 

Hinata touched his two index fingers together, trying to look innocent. “Maybe? It’s still hanging out, though! I’m just in a bit of trouble and need help.” 

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, fine. What is it you need help with?” 

It turned out that Hinata needed help organizing and categorizing a drawer full of various drugs in his bedroom. 

“Jesus, dude,” Kei said, looking through the various bottles, bags, and accessories, “why do you need to sort through all this shit?”   
Hinata didn’t look at him, biting his lip and instead getting out pens and paper. “I’m just a little on-edge, right now. I need to manage all of this before things get out of hand.”   
_No shit._

He was given a piece of paper with around seven names and addresses on it, including his own. It felt suspicious, but he was being cryptic enough already. Hinata told him to put a specific amount of tallies next to each name. _Kageyama, three… Tanaka, two… Kenma, two… Tsukishima, one._

 _One?_ What was this?   
Kageyama was writing down an inventory of everything in the drawer when Hinata started lighting a bong. A cute little cloud-themed bong that he remembered being a Christmas gift one year. The smell was intense and heavy, but Kei couldn’t find the energy to complain. If anything, he was busy being concerned over the four bottles of MDMA pills and a baggie of ecstasy in the shapes of little black birds. 

“Why would you need this much of anything?” He asked, handing things to Kageyama to mark down.   
Hinata blew out a stream of smoke and wrote something down on a pad of paper before responding. “I have a lot of friends. People like to party. I just buy in bulk for fun.”   
“This is enough to make an elephant overdose.”   
“Good thing I’m not an elephant, then.”

“That- what?”   
Sorting and organizing was quiet after that, only taking about twenty minutes to finish. Kei sat doing nothing for about half of that, Kageyama insisting that the rest of this was just for him to do. It was weird and uncomfortable to just be there. He had no idea what to do or say, instead just scrolling on his phone wishing that someone would say something. As soon as Hinata started crying, though, he took back that wish. 

It started as just a trickle of tears, but evolved into a full-blown quiet sob. Kei looked up with wide eyes, glancing at Kageyama as if to say, “ _What the fuck is going on?_ ” Kageyama shook his head, responding with a silent, “ _Don’t try anything_.” 

“Do you want me to add the purple gas or are you smoking the rest of that tonight,” he asked in a monotone voice to him. 

Hinata pressed the palm of his hand to one eye, shoulders shaking. “I- um, gah, don’t write it. I-I’ll, um, I’ll finish it. It’s, ha, it’s wh-what, like a gram?”   
Kei wasn’t the most outwardly emotional or empathetic person on the planet, but this just felt like a bit too much. He stuck out his jaw, resisting the need to make any sort of comment at all. Hinata continued to cry, taking another hit on the bong every once in a while. 

“So, um,” he decided to speak up, Kageyama shooting him a glance, “where’s Tanaka? This seems more of a thing he’d do with y’all. More than… me?”   
“He’s with his girlfriend.” 

“Girlfriend?” _Jesus, was everyone cuffed now?_

“Yeah,” Kageyama nodded. “He’s, like, head-over-heels for this chick.” 

“She’s a goddess,” Hinata adds, taking a sad hit right after. “The most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.”   
“You can’t say that about your friends’ girlfriends, dude.”   
As if by a miracle, a smile appeared from his tear-stained cheeks. “You’re right. Stupid, Broke-yama finally made a good point.”   
“I _only_ make good points.”   
And just like that, Kageyama had gotten him to stop crying and laugh again without even really mentioning the elephant in the room. It was amazing, really, how much they had evolved as friends. Maybe it was time for Kei to do the same. 

The crying incident stuck with him for a day. And then a week. He couldn’t get the image of him breaking down sobbing out of his head for some reason. Kei had seen Hinata cry in the past, but whatever that was just felt different. That wasn’t a missing homework assignment, or a failed exam. That was just… deeply disturbing to him. He thought about it when he looked in the mirror, when he drank from the bottle at work every shift, when he avoided Akiteru at home. 

He thought of it _especially_ when the group went out without him. 

“Where’s Hinata?” he finally asked at the circular table they sat at in a bar. Tanaka passed him a shot, hardly acknowledging his question. _Ugh, a sweet shot. What is this, a water moccasin?_ Taking shots had gotten a lot easier in the past month, but that still didn’t mean he enjoyed them. 

“Busy,” Kageyama slowly sipped from a glass of scotch, “not everyone can go out all the time.”   
_It still seemed so wrong, though._

A few days later, they were at Ennoshita’s apartment, four drinks past drunk. Hinata still wasn’t there. Nobody would talk about it. He hung upside down on the couch, listening to Tanaka and Nishinoya karaoke duet a bad pop song from the 90s. Everyone was acting normal, but not mentioning him at all. It was so fucking _aggravating._ They were all in on a secret that he didn’t get the details of. 

_Fuck them._

“ _Tonight we’ll be going down memory lane, visiting the early 2000s in a decade of punk rock at its peak, paving the way for our favourite alternative bands today._ ”   
Kei was so _fucking bored_ of being sober. He just needed to get past these few lines before starting the music and he could break open the stash. Nishinoya told him about the late afternoon shift replacing the cheap whiskey with cheap gin. An even trade. Both tasted like shit. He was so fucking bored of this job, of sitting there and pressing buttons and talking in a voice that wasn’t his own. He hated his job, he _hated_ it. 

The recording turned off and he leaned back in his chair. The key was still taped to the bottom of the desk, easy as ever to find and unlock the drawer. Inside of his travel mug, he poured a good mix of vodka and gin. It was an awful mix, but Kei never drank for flavour. He’d save that for when he was forty and had boring work things to talk to with boring work friends. After locking the drawer, he placed the key next to the computer and started his easy night. 

As the warmth began to spread in his stomach, he started to feel good again. 

“ _Tsukishima, could you come down to the station? I need to talk to you._ ”   
The phone call with Suga was short, but he could tell something was off. Something was wrong- again. Akiteru had the car, so he had to take the dreaded subway again. Walking into the building, he could see Suga already leaning against the front desk. 

“Hey,” he said, not expecting the disappointed look he got from his superior. 

Suga nodded towards the employees only door, the two heading inside in dead silence. Now he was certain that something was wrong. _Fuck,_ what happened? Did he leave his cup? Was Suga going to get on his ass for having liquids- 

_Oh._

Nishinoya was already inside the booth, looking at them both with wide eyes. If he didn’t want to look terrified, he was doing an awful job. 

“Do you know what this is?” Suga held up the key, and everything sort of fell into place in his head. 

_FUCK._ Kei never put it back under the desk!

“Just this morning, Nishinoya was late and his temporary stand-in found this at the desk and called me. Do you know what we discovered that this key unlocked?” He continued, eyebrows meeting in an angered glance. 

He swallowed, unable to respond. 

“Now, Nishinoya claims to not know anything. Would yo-”   
“It’s mine,” he spits out, unable to control himself. “I was the one keeping it there.”   
Suga blinks, not expecting him to crack so soon. Blank surprise returns to disappointment, but sadder than before. He sighs. “Tsukishima… I could fire you for that.”   
_Oh god. Here it comes._

“But- look. I don’t want to let you go. You’re just a dumb kid.”   
_Just do it._

“I’ve always trusted you the years you’ve worked here.” 

_Just fucking fire me._

“I wanted to let you start freeforming.”   
_Wait- no. Wait, what?_

“Huh?” Kei finally says, unable to fully process what he said. “Are you serious?”   
His manager drops the key into his pocket and runs a hand through his hair. “I was considering it. Just like twice a week. I thought you were going places with this stuff, but keeping liquor at work? I don’t know anymore.”   
_Fuck. FUCK._ This was all he had wanted since he applied for the job. “Look, I’m sorry. Like genuinely. I’ll work overtime. I’ll do two shifts in one day. Just let me freeform at least _once_.” He put his hands together, basically begging.   
“Just…” Suga sighed, “just don’t screw up again. I’ll let you take Saturday night, okay? If you can prove to me that you’re not going to pull something like this again by the end of the week, I’ll let you do Saturday.”   
_Deal._

As soon as he was back on the train, Kei was pulling up Spotify to make a playlist and gain ideas. He already knew what his inspiration was, what he wanted to say, and how he wanted to say it, yet at the same time didn’t want to be too on the nose. There were too many genres, too many sounds, too many ideas to put directly into words. It was harder than he expected, to make the mix. This one chance he was getting was his apology of sorts. He told Yamaguchi he’d make him a mix one day, so here he was. Why did that have to add so much more pressure?   
Headphones on, listening to one of his prototype playlists for inspiration, he walked to his apartment complex. Part of him felt like Gatsby from that stupid book. Here he was, betting it all on one mix just for one listener in a sea of people. There was a chance he wouldn’t be on to hear it. There was a chance Yamaguchi wouldn’t care. There were too many _fucking_ chances, but he had to take all of them. 

Home was only a two minute walk up the stairs from the front of the building. A two minute walk interrupted as someone tapped on his shoulder. Pulling his headphones from his ears, the soft rock was replaced with the sounds of the city. 

Kageyama stood behind him, a step below him on the stairs. In confusion, Kei let go of the building’s front door, turning around to fully face him. 

“Uh, hello?” Kei watched him pull his backpack off and unzip it, handing him a small, brown paper lunch sack. 

The man held it outwards to him expectedly. With an eyebrow raised, he gently took it and peeked inside to see… one of the bottles from Hinata’s apartment. Kageyama turned to leave, zipping up his backpack and stepping down to the pavement. 

“Wait- Kageyama, what’s going on?”   
You could see gears turning in his head as he bit the inside of his cheek, thinking of how to respond. “He needs to get rid of them. You can keep it or sell it, or hell, throw it in a river for all I care. It just isn’t his. You don’t know anything about him possessing anything, alright?”   
“What’s going on with Hinata? Why won’t anybody talk about him?” 

He shut his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly from his mouth. “Just… come over to my place tonight. I have to finish this and… we can’t talk in public.”   
Kei nodded slowly, neither saying goodbye as Kageyama continued down the side of the street. He _knew_ something was off. The walk up to his apartment felt more taxing than usual, the bottle filled to the brim with emotional lead that weighed him down with each step. It was so _uncomfortable_ being out on the news. Everyone clearly already knew. So- what? Did that mean Hinata didn’t trust him enough to explain? No one else trusted him enough to explain?   
_It’s what you deserve. You only went out with them for the feeling. You went to chase that high, not for them._

_Well, I’ve changed now. I go out with them for them._

_Are you sure?_ _  
_His grip around the bag tightened as he unlocked the door, stepping into the dark main area. Akiteru was at work, he had time to think. The crinkle of paper came as he pulled out the pill bottle, looking at it a little closer. It was one of the MDMA containers, little sharpie stars doodled around it, something he learned Hinata liked to do to distinguish ownership. How ironic was that now?  
Opening it up revealed it to be three-fourths of the way full, containing pink tablets made to look like dice. He hated to mentally admit they were cute. MDMA styles were always notoriously enticing just because of their colours and cute shapes. It just looked like candy. 

There was no reason for Hinata to possess so many drugs. Whatever happened was probably his own fault. His own forthcoming for being an idiot. Anyone who had this high of a budget for drugs was asking for it, so why did he feel so bad for him? 

Kageyama’s apartment was a box. Literally. He never had people over due to this. An old loveseat and coffee table that doubled as his dining area in a combined kitchen and living area made it… less inviting. He was also a firm believer in having the shittiest lighting situation, mostly using cheap candles and battery-powered lamps to save on power costs. His vice happened to be scotch and edibles, Kei took notice of whilst in the kitchen. _Understandably so._

“Do you want a drink or something?” His host asked, getting himself water from the sink. 

“Uh, no I’m fine.”   
They sat on the couch in silence for a moment before Kageyama handed him a tablet. Small, blue, and in the shape of the sun. Kei gave him a look that asked, “ _Really? Now?_ ”. He just shrugged, taking one and _chewing_ it before swallowing. 

“You chew them?” 

“It works faster, trust me.”   
And so he did, grimacing at the taste and swallowing it down to forget it. 

He was right about one thing, however. It only took about twenty minutes of them watching an unfunny sitcom for Kei to start feeling it. He felt good, incredibly good. Not shaky, like at the club that one time. He just felt completely clear. For the first time in weeks, his head was clear and _god_ did it feel refreshing. 

Kageyama must have planned for this, wanting to talk when they could actually feel okay. He grabbed the remote, muting the old television. “So, at his workplace, or whatever, they did a drug test, like… two days after we went out. That was the night you came over, like when we sorted shit.”   
Listening intently, Kei shifted his glasses. He couldn’t wrap his head around how he managed to feel so ecstatic during this conversation. Just perfectly fantastic. 

“He was worried about testing positive for a lot of stuff, so Hinata told me we had to disperse all of his stuff around so if they got a search warrant or something he’d be in the clear.” Kageyama took a sip of the water, looking straight ahead. “I think he’s in the process of getting fired or something right now. They did two other tests just to be clear, and yeah, he’s basically screwed. Probably has to go to court. Last time we spoke was, like, Friday. If he’s lucky, they’ll strike him a deal, but I doubt it.” 

He frowned, looking over at him. “A deal?”   
“Like, either going to those cleansing houses for whatever for a period or jail time. Sometimes based on your scenario, they strike you a deal. I think he’s screwed, though.”   
“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

That was rough. Like, _really_ rough. He knew it was rough, but how did he still feel good? It was evil, truly evil, but he loved it. Kei felt unstoppable in that moment in that stupid dimly-lit box apartment. Just the two of them hanging out: Kei and him, him and Kei. There felt like no need for bickering and nasty remarks. The two laid down on the floor, laughing about how it was similar to that of the movie poster from the two lovebirds with cancer. 

“Dude, _I_ literally almost got fired today,” Kei laughed out, Kageyama’s hair tickling his cheek whenever he moved. “I took the fall for my co-workers hiding booze in the studio.”   
“Oh, you’re _dumb_ for that.”   
“I _know_!” 

Kageyama sat up on his elbows, looking down at him. “How’d you manage to stay? I think my boss could legally beat the shit out of me and take back previous paychecks if I pulled something like that.”   
“That’s because you work in a library. No food or drinks, dumbass.” It was still funny to all of their friends, Kageyama’s current job. He had trouble keeping them consistent, but this was the oddest one so far. He was certainly too violent and loud for a library, but somehow managed to hold this as his longest job yet. “He said he wanted to let me freeform and I got on my hands and knees to get that last chance, y’know?”   
“Freeform?”   
“Like, I choose the music.” 

“You didn’t already?”   
With a soft chuckle, he sat up and hugged his knees. “Nah. I need to this time, though. I’m trying to apologize to someone.”   
“Who?”   
He could overshare. What was Kageyama gonna do, snitch? “This dude I really liked, Yamaguchi. I was, like, an asshole to one of his friends that I also happened to have sex with, and the whole thing blew up in my face.”   
Kageyama stared blankly at him for a few seconds before shaking his head and coming back to life. “I still can’t believe you’re gay.”   
“I’m not gay.”   
_He wasn’t._

“You said you liked a guy.”   
“Yeah. Doesn’t make me gay.”   
“What does that even mean? If you aren’t gay then do you just like him as a friend?” 

Kei’s head was going to explode. Kageyama had managed to make him feel like the stupidest person on the planet, and that’s who he was supposed to be was _talking_ to. “It just means I don’t know what I am. I can still like guys and not be gay.”   
“So… bi.” 

_God he was_ not _having this conversation with Kageyama._

So ten minutes later, he was still having the conversation with Kageyama. _Better him than Akiteru, I guess_. 

“You didn’t sleep with him.”   
“Yeah. We never did anything.”

“So how do you know you like dick?” 

Kei was situated on top of the couch, sitting on the backrest with his head in his hands. Kageyama sat against the wall. “I’ve had sex with a dude before.”   
“Woahhh, what? When? Was it one of our friends?”   
“Ahhhh,” he let a noise of aggravation slip from his throat. “University. Remember the concert? When they said my na-”   
He was quick to stand up, swaying for a moment before finding his balance and cutting him off. “You slept with the lead singer of _Black Jackals?_ ”   
“Ha!” Kei ugly laughed for a moment, thinking about how he’d never forgive himself if he did that. “The drummer. It was, like… a two or three time thing. Long time ago, though.”   
“Was he your first?” Kageyama moved to sit next to him on the couch. “I feel like everyone we know has such a high body count.”   
“Nah. Third.” He elbowed his side. “Don’t be jealous, I’m _so_ certain that librarians get lots of action.” 

“I don’t even really want the action.”   
Watching him stare off into space again, Kei disgustingly felt like he understood Kageyama for once. He wasn’t the only one going through a sex-istential crisis, it seemed. 

Kei had a ghost. Well, if anything, he had a _new_ ghost. The thoughts of the envelope had been abandoned, but the twitch in his hand stayed. Every subconscious thought was a slave to the high he’d felt with Kageyama the previous night. Ecstasy had never felt so good in his system. As soon as he was coming down, all he wanted was to pop another one. Being sober was so aggravatingly boring. 

The drawer at work was cleaned out, everything probably just thrown away. His travel mug was filled with water today, clear and cold. Ads were playing now, giving him an opportunity to work on the mix again. He’d restarted the playlist three times, abandoning ideas as soon as they were started. At first, he’d gone with normal alt rock, but it felt too cliche. There was no feeling in it. Then alt rock turned to soft indie, turned to hip hop. Now he was scrolling through lists of extremely underground artists, nothing you’d expect to hear on a radio. He’d never asked Yamaguchi what kind of music he’d liked, but he wished he had. This was an impossible task. 

With a sigh, he ran his fingers on the underside of the desk where the key used to be. Expecting nothing, he was met with surprise upon bumping into something. Instinct told him it was gum and he needed to die, but one more touch said otherwise. Something folded, like paper (?) was stuck to the bottom. He pulled it off, seeing the tape that momentarily kept it there. 

It almost made him smile, the little note. There was a little cartoon of Nishinoya and an apology addressed to him. How quaint. Part of him wondered if he would have been fired on the spot if he fessed up, rather than Kei. Realistically, he himself _should_ have been fired. Suga was too forgiving for that, he assumed. He probably wouldn’t even find out if he _did_ fucked up before Saturday. 

He’d be okay, though. Kei wasn’t going to fuck this up. 

Home had become a fun little game show he liked to call: _Can Akiteru Tell I’m Tripping Balls Right Now?_

“Kei.”   
“Hm?”   
“Are you alright?”   
He’d been staring off into space, eating ramen that had a lovely mushroom blend cooked in. Originally, he wasn’t going to touch the bags. _Fuck that, right?_ It wasn’t his fault the high with Kageyama and the work shifts without booze weren’t getting to him. Whiskey wasn’t doing it for him. He’d feel sick, not good. Being high was… _god_ , it felt ethereal. 

“Yeah, just thinking.”   
Akiteru stuck out his jaw, standing there awkwardly for one minute too many. “I’m sorry about what I said the other week. If I made you… uncomfortable, or whatever.” He took a seat in front of him, the logo on his shirt dancing around. 

“It’s whatever,” he finished the rest of the ramen, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. It flowed like ocean waves, like they were the ones sitting on the ocean floor. Everything felt chaotically calm. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? You look, uh,” his brother tilted his head, “spacey.”   
“Just peachy.” With a fake smile, lips pressed together, he got up to clean his bowl. The sooner he got out, the easier it would be to win. 

Winning got obscenely harder after Wednesday. Kei had become that of a hermit on his days off, staying in and getting high. His highs felt shorter, his soberness felt awful. Staying in bed to stare at the ceiling felt euphoric. The dice lessened. Each one felt like a roll over his high. 

_Snake-eyes! We’re gonna have a good trip!_

_Four. God. Coming down makes me want to off myself._

_Double six! That shit’s high alright!_ _  
__I can’t roll again. I just rolled the dice._

_God if I don’t roll the dice again I’m going to kill myself._

_It makes me want to kill myself I can’t be sober._

By Friday, he was on his seventh playlist. He was near pulling his hair out in stress. With twitching hands and sweat dripping down his neck, he thought he wouldn’t be able to do this shit. Kei’s laptop had been open for too long, probably adding trillions of yen on their power bill. Part of him thought about calling. He was sober, sort of. 

He wasn’t thinking. No, Kei was not thinking at _all._

“ _Uh, Kei?”_

 _Finally. He picked up._ “What, we’re on first name basis now?” 

“Are you on the phone?”   
He turned around in his chair, staring at Akiteru in the doorway and then down at the phone in his hand that… was not on a call at all. 

“Oh, I thought I was.”   
His brother stepped inside, frowning. “You’re acting weird. You’ve _been_ acting weird. Just tell me what’s going on.”   
Kei tinkered with the phone for a minute, finding out that it was dead. “I’m not acting weird.”   
“You _have_ been, though. Is it the gay thing? Is it because I said that?” Akiteru took a seat on the side of his bed. 

“God!” he slammed his hand onto the desk, “I’m not gay! Everyone keeps saying that to me and I’m _not_!” All he wanted was to call Yamaguchi and ask him about music. That was all he wanted to do. 

His eyes widened at the outburst. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’ll drop it.” They go quiet for a moment. “Kei, you know you can talk to me-” Akiteru trails off, eyes landing on the bottle that sat next to his laptop. 

Both of them were immediately brought to attention, Kei shoving the bottle in a drawer and Akiteru on his feet trying to stop him. 

“Get out! Just go!” He yells at his brother, pushing him off harder than he needs to. 

Akiteru stumbles, catching his balance. “Just tell me what that was.”   
“Leave me alone!”   
He’s started to feel like a child again, a teenager fighting with his older brother about menial things. Kei isn’t a kid anymore, however, and the fleeting realization hits him, just how he’s grown up. He’s grown up and this is what he is. _Mom wouldn’t be disappointed if I brought home a boy, Akiteru was right. Mom would be disappointed if I brought home myself._

“You’re on it again, you’re on it.” He murmurs, almost like he doesn’t believe it himself. “Kei, you need to get help.” 

His hands tighten into fists. “I’m not on anything. I don’t need help. Just leave me alone and get _out_!” He starts the sentence quietly, yet lets it evolve into a shout by the end. 

Staring at the floor, Akiteru starts to leave. His hand lingers on the doorknob. “You’re not living if you’re not clean.” And then he leaves, shutting the door without noise. 

_What would he know?_

Kei didn’t sleep much Friday night. One of the pink dice wouldn’t let him. He spent hours upon hours downloading songs and loading them onto a flashdrive. After writing his initials on them and admired his work, he gave it a kiss of satisfaction. This would work out fine. 

He couldn’t focus much in the late morning. His hands shook no matter what he did. Sweat beaded along his hairline even if he was cold. He wanted to get in a quick nap, just something to give him energy for the long night ahead. There was something similar to butterflies in his stomach, making him more nervous than he needed to be. The what-ifs for the evening were popping into his subconscious.

Near noon, he was feeling more depressed than he had ever been. By evening, it was unbearable. Feeling hardly alive, he snuck the bottle into his bag and headed out to the car. Akiteru had been out all day. Maybe he was snitching to the police. Maybe he was getting laid. It didn’t matter. Tonight was Kei’s night, the most important night of the summer. This was his apology night. His one chance to make things up. Calling and talking was out of the question. Nobody would want to be that forward. 

Kei opened the door to the radio station, hardly acknowledging his surroundings. He was surrounded by clouds of real life, the one thing he wanted to avoid Before heading into the employees only door, he popped two of the pills into his mouth to chew both. It was disgusting, but he could care less. His body felt like shit. His _mind_ felt like shit. He needed everything to be clear again. 

Yachi was in the studio, shooting him a nervous look before finishing her lines for the night. _What,_ could she see how shitty he looked too? How, how sweaty? And unorganized? The two didn’t interact before switching places, Kei sitting down to the desk and looking around with wonder. Messing with the LED light settings amused him for a bit, settling on blue. The ecstasy wasn’t kicking in fast enough. Deciding on one more, ( _it couldn’t hurt_ ), he chewed the last pill in his bottle and swallowed with a grimace. Kei plugged his flash drive into the computer and started moving files into the queue, listening to the soft music playing from the last of Yachi’s playlist.   
He cued the ads and sat back in his chair. Things were clearing too fast in his head. He was lightheaded, every inhale a little too sharp. A chill went down his spine. No matter how he shifted in the chair, he felt uncomfortable. 

_Could it just hit yet_? 

Kei felt tight in his chest and head. A dull headache rolling around his brain made the music and voices annoying. Things were too loud. Way too loud. 

Five minutes left in ads. He had time.   
Opening his phone, he went directly to texts. He should probably warn Bokuto, the thing about not joining the band. _Shit._ Was he trying to join or not join? He told himself he hated his life and he needed to be free, but at the concert didn’t he say goodbye?   
_You didn’t say goodbye._

_I hate goodbyes._

_I k ow w a l d_

_Wh t ?_ _  
_His thoughts were fogging up. It was hard to keep a thought in straight sentences. He just needed to feel good. All Kei wanted was to feel good.

The headache in his head pounded harder, squeezing his brain like it was putty. How long had he been holding his breath for? He exhaled hard, struggling a little to re-inhale. God, how did you breathe? 

_In_

_Out_

_N_

_O t_

_I_

_He p_

_W y ca ‘ t I b ea t e ?_

Kei’s hands were shaky as he raked one through his sweaty hair. Why was he so sweaty? Why couldn’t it just kick in already? He had two minutes left. Blinking became a little hard, but he had to several times to clear his vision. The room was spinning a bit, it was hard to move the cursor to the right area on his screen. 

He was holding his breath again, releasing everything with a noise of struggle coming from the top of his throat. Only forty seconds left. Forty long seconds. Wait- _shit!_ He hadn’t even written his script yet! There was no fucking script! He had no time to pull up a document, instead pulling out his phone to try and write something down. Kei’s fingers couldn’t hit the right numbers to unlock his phone. _Fuck!_ He was fucked! Ten seconds until he was dead. He’d have to wing it. 

_Nine_

_Eight_

_Seven_

_Six_

_Five_

His cursor hovered over record, ready to press the red button like his life was depending on it. 

_Four_

_Three_

_Two_

_One-_

“Good evening, nightowls,” Kei couldn’t remember how to do his radio voice, instead mumbling into the mic as he normally spoke, “I- uh, I’m free… freeforming for the first time tonight, so I uh- I made a mix for someone I- well, okay, I’m sorry I- heh- messed up. Ahhh, it’s so hard to talk, right?” It was comedic, how horribly he knew he was doing. “Well, I’m sorry about the mess, I promise I can clean things up- er, I’ll try.”   
It was getting harder to breathe, to think. The edges of his vision were growing fuzzy at an alarming rate, the blue from the lights flooding his brain. Why were words so difficult to get out?   
“Yeah, Yamaguchi, I’m really sorry. I wish we, uh, we couuuuld be under the uh… the bridge. This is- well, I made the mix for you. Goodnight night owls, let’s uhm,” his body felt uncontrollable. He was going to fall out of the chair, fuck he needed to cue the music! “This music is for… is for all of you, i- oh man.”   
Head swaying on his neck, he tried to click something, anything. “Oh, fuck,” he mumbled. His lips were numb. His eyes felt numb. His hand was too slick to stay on the mouse, slipping off. For a minute, he tried to stand. He had to get out of that recording studio. Was the music playing yet?   
His heartbeat was in his throat, sweat pouring down into his eyes. For one moment, he thought he could get out of there, find someone to help. Then, Kei crumbled to the ground, consciousness dancing away into that sweltering summer night. 

He really was so tired. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god idk if this is narcissistic or something but im so proud of myself for actually finishing this cuz i almost abandoned it two weeks ago.  
> anyway ty for reading to the end!! ily. chapter 1 of side b is up, im uploading them at the same time for fun also cuz chapter 1 kind of spoiled the end. also sorry the tw at the beginning of this story, that kind of spoils things too. but i also believe heavily in trigger warnings so  
> yeah. tysm for reading and for kudos and comments. i appreciate them on a whole diff level
> 
> PS: wash your hands, stay home, and stay healthy!! stay safe, homies. i'll cya next time^^

**Author's Note:**

> kind of just a thing i thought about writing  
> anyway im sick and hope you like this, thank you big time for reading that's dope  
> side a is tsukishima centric ho boy  
> make sure to drink water and get enough sleep^^


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